Breaking in Rumia
by Chibi-Reaper
Summary: A successful summoning is all Louise ever dreamed of. It may well be all she ever gets. A Youkai is not a being easily brought to heel. Note: contains some formatting and line-break errors. I'll fix them in time.
1. Chapter 1

It was a black dome.

That was all Louise could say about it, really, shutting out the confused mutterings of her fellow students as she analyzed it. A simple patch of space that seemed completely empty, black as the deepest night. Not shiny, or glossy black, or like velvet, but simply... darkness. Greedily drawing in the sunshine around it and devouring it, turning everything within its reach into an anti-light. She passed a hand tentatively through its boundary.

No noticeable effect. Her arm simply swung through the patch of air the same as it would any other patch of air, with no sense that it might have been stopped, or even slowed, by anything. It was simply as though a dome of darkness had risen up to form a shadow in three dimensions.

It was all well and good, Louise supposed, and she was a little happy to have at least manages to summon SOMETHING, nebulous lump of intangible night that it might be, but she couldn't help but wonder how exactly she was supposed to contract with something like this, without any substance to its shape and form. Then it lifted up off the ground, floating slightly, and it clicked in a burst of intuitive comprehension. The dome was not a dome, but an orb, and there was something inside of it. Creating it, like a protective shell against the light.. probably nocturnal. She'd never heard of such a beast, but it wasn't impossible, though certainly neither common, for the summoning to bring a sort of creature that had never been seen before. She felt a brief swell of pride as she realized she might be the first in over a century to be added to that short list of names. It floated a little further up and to the side, and she realized belatedly that if she delayed too long, it might simply drift off.

"Don't go!" She called, before she could stop herself, or consider that she may have just spooked it with the noise. She was surprised, however, as it stopped in place.

"Don't go?" It called back, in an almost querying tone, speaking, for whatever reason, with the tongue of a girl perhaps a few years her junior.

It drifted slightly, in a different direction, and Louise realized that the... that whatever it was, it was either a cunning parroter of sounds, or bore enough intelligence of its own to comprehend speech. It might need to be bargained with.

"I have summoned you here." She declared simply, uncertain as to how this would go, what she might offer that would entice it.

"You have summoned me... here? Is that so..." The thing in the orb mused, floating gently in place, and confirming itself to be the latter of Louise's suspicions. There was a sudden soft crackling noise, and a smell... not unlike singed hair, in fact, and the speaker continued in a different vein.

"... I am hungry." It said, simply. "Will you fill my belly?"

Louise felt a sudden surge of relief that things would prove to be simpler than she'd expected, despite the being's unusual intelligence.

"Contract with me." She offered. "Become my familiar, and you will be fed."

"Is that so~" The voice came again, this time seeming interested, rather than simply curious. "Fa-mi-liar..." It spoke, seeming to taste the word, before the orb suddenly jerked, and it spoke another word in mild distaste, one she was not familiar with. "Shikigami. You would be the master?"

"And your belly would be filled." Louise countered, deliberately playing to the whatever-it-was' sole apparent interest. The orb bobbed slowly up and down in the air, as it seemed to consider the offer... then there was another soft crackle, accompanied by the same burnt-hair smell, followed quickly by a cheery "Ok~"

"Hold still." Louise requested, the negotiation having come to a mutually satisfying conclusion. "I will contract with you, and then I will give you food."

A soft humming of what was probably assent came from the orb and, after steeling herself and taking a deep breath, Louise stepped inside of it.

It was darker than she had ever imagined darkness could bee. Even in the deepest, blackest of nights, there would always be some trace, some mote of light, even if merely the twinkling of stars through clouds, but this... this was different. Pure. Empty. A nothingness that she could almost swear yawned infinitely in every direction, had she not known the orb had dimensions. Or did it. A sudden, primal paranoia filled her. What if she was wrong? What if there were no boundaries, and this... nothingness, empty void, simply continued on in every direction forever, once a fool had stumbled within? The sudden dread overwhelmed and drowned out the sudden, hindbrain correlation to her mockingly granted title of 'Zero', and her skin crawled. She barely kept herself from stumbling to her knees... it was as though she had been struck blind and would never again see.

She stepped forward, awkwardly, footing suddenly uncertain now that she could see neither her feet nor the ground they stood upon, and grasped carefully forward with outstretched hands. Fingers met soft flesh, and hair, and a warm cavern of a mouth eagerly accepted her thumb, a wet tongue running up to slide around the digit before she tugged her limb backwards sharply, mind so preoccupied with -face that's a face, it was a head a human head, why would it have that- that she missed the following sharp click of teeth against teeth entirely. She breathed softly, but heavily, for a moment before reaching out again with both hands and setting them on the sides of the head.

"Pentagon of the five elemental powers." She chanted. "Bless this..." She thought quickly and left off the traditional 'humble' portion for worry of causing offense. "... being, and make it my familiar."

As she finished the chant, she leaned in, placing a brief kiss against the familiar's brow.

It screamed.

After several minutes of panic, during which she had stumbled out of the rapidly thrashing orb, the familiar floated sulkily in place. She could tell its mood because she had insisted that it lower the intensity of its orb of shadow, to the point where she could actually make out the being within. Not clearly, of course, there was only so begrudgingly far the familiar had been willing to go, even at the insistence of its new master, and she had decided not to push it, but enough that she could make out a vague form, if not a few features. It was in the shape of a simple peasant girl. Illusion at best, because it couldn't possibly be human, that creature of darkness, and the lowest part of its feet were floating a half dozen handspans off the ground besides.

"It hurt." The familiar said, grumpiness coloring its tone. "You didn't mention that."

"I had not thought to." Louise replied honestly. "Before you, a summoning would only bring wild, dumb animals, and they would thrash regardless, of fear or confusion. I don't know that anyone was aware the contract caused pain. And it's over now, is it not, and you soon to be fed?"

As she had thought, the blatant redirection brought the familiar out of it's funk. She could almost swear she saw the tiniest pinpricks of red, floating where its eyes should be, as it seemed to look around the clearing.

"... I am hungry." it declared, then after a moment raised an arm, pointing. "I want to eat that. May I?"

Louise's gaze tracked the extended finger to... oh no. To a somewhat portly classmate, suddenly clutching his own familiar, a particularly large rabbit, to his chest with worry.

"No, dear." She said carefully, trying to keep her voice soothing as possible. "That belongs to someone else, you can't eat it. But I'll feed you. Wait patiently, and I'll have a servant bring you all the meat you can eat."

"... fresh? Dripping with life?" The familiar asked, allowing its arm to drop as it turned back to Louise. She swallowed back bile at the thought, inhumanity reinforced.

"... Yes." She said weakly, then continued, hoping she was making her voice sound enticing. "Freshly slaughtered livestock. Just dripping with... blood."

The familiar's head tilted slightly to the side, and this time she could almost see a subtle flash, along with the noise as smell, as a hand seemed to reach up reflexively to something at its head before stopping short of it.

"... A cow?" It asked, seeming uncertain of something.

"Yes." Louise agreed quickly to the demand, thinking it better than letting it run amok and devour other familiars freely, and mind desperately whirling to find out what... ah. "I'll have them lead it in live." She said, coaxingly, though haltingly. "And you can eat it as you please, killing it yourself, if you want."

"... Okay~" The familiar agreed after only a moment, though it seemed a little irritated still. Possibly that it could not pick and choose its own prey, despite that the bounty was greater in Louise's agreement. Perhaps rabbits were a particular preference. Well, she would discover sooner or later.

She had much yet to learn, about her new familiar.


	2. Chapter 2

Rumia floated gently out in the breeze, watching the moons floating above, as the Master that had called her here slumbered, having not considered for even a moment slumbering in the pile of straw that had been apologetically offered, with the explanation that she had been expecting something simpler of the summons.

Not that she took any offense, having slept in meaner conditions, but being so close to a slumbering, vulnerable Master was... it would be tempting. Just a nibble, just a bite, just a feast~ And then she would have to quietly leave before someone noticed that she was still here, and the Master wasn't, and started asking unfortunate questions, and then brought in shrine priestesses.

No, it wasn't a good idea, but she could still turn the situation to her advantage somehow, if she-

Rumia shook her head awkwardly, having just lost her train of thought. No, better not to meddle with the Master, no matter how tempting and vulnerable, instead... hm, she would have to think-

Rumia took a deep breath, ignoring her growing headache as she watched the moons. Her mood had begun to sour for some reason, and she thought for a moment about sneaking, creeping, through the window and back into the room where the slumbering Master remained, unguarded and so frail~ No, she had the feeling, for some reason, that it was a bad idea. Hmph, never mind then...

There was a soft tittering below, and she peered through the dimness to see a fair-haired human couple relaxing beneath the moonlight, and her mind turned towards a course that would not require her to endure the pain brought by focused thought. She floated down.

"Oh, sir Guiche~" The girl giggled, cheeks flushed with the wine they were sipping. "This was such an excellent idea, a rendevous beneath the starlight..."

"Indeed, their merry twinkle has captured many a heart. But I, for one, am more enraptured by the sparkle of your eyes, my dear."

The girl giggled at the man's heavy-handed seduction attempts, pressing him for more wine.

"I like the moons, here." Rumia said simply, in lieu of an introduction.

"Indeed, their shine is... eh? Who goes there!"

Rumia floated forward, darkness slightly deeper about her than the rest of the night.

"... You are that Louise's familiar." He said, recognition delayed until he realized the girl before him was not connected to the ground. "Feh. Be off, I've no interest in dealing with you."

"Is that so? But I was watching the moons, and heard your merriment. And now I am hungry."

"Be off, I said." Guiche insisted. "Stubborn familiar. If you hunger, rouse your master, or find a servant, I care not, but do not trouble me for the repast set out for myself and my flower of the night."

The girl swooned, and Rumia noted that her clothes were of a substancially poorer quality than the Guiche's own, but thought no more of it.

"Hm. But why should I go, when the means to filling my belly already lies so near at hand?" Rumia asked, tilting her head to one side.

"Peh. You do not listen, when addressed by nobility. Such will end poorly for you, and my patience is not limitless, for even a classmate. This is the third time, and so shall it be the final: begone with you, else I shall effect your removal personally."

"Is that so? Scary, scary~ Such a cruel boy, behind the pretty face~" Rumia jibed, acting and reacting without thought, as came naturally to youkai.

The Guiche rose with a lurch, snarling at the insult.

"You dare speak so, to your betters, familiar?"

"Not at all! When I should find someone my better, I'll indeed hold my tongue~"

"Valkyrie!" Guiche barked, drawing a rose and twitching it as a form of brass and edges rose from the dirt. "You have offered me insult, familiar, and I shall not stand for it. I'll have satisfaction carved from your flesh."

Rumia laughed delightedly as it moved to the attack, floating out of the way of its cleaving strokes and broadsword, pivoting and whirling, and... through! Then, behind it, reaching and lunging and... and very quickly floating upwards instead, as the Guiche brought a second Valkyrie to form and substance, a broadsword of its own sliding through the space she had occupied a moment before.

"Foolish familiar." Guiche chided. "At any time, I am capable of controlling up to four of my lovely warriors. Certainly, of course, I need not waste the full extent of my power on the likes of you."

In some part of her brain, Rumia sighed, predatory nature having written the Guiche off as 'too much trouble'. That didn't mean, however, that she couldn't keep playing.

"Fun~" She declared happily, continuing to float away, just ever so slightly out of reach of the Valkyrie's strikes, leading him onwards. "Play with me, sir Guiche!"

"You think this is a game, wretch?" the noble child snapped back. "My Valkyrie will cleave you in half!"

"Maaybe~" She agreed. "If that is so... then you win! What better game could there be?"

Guiche muttered dire imprecations to himself as he pressed on, the golems only ever coming, at most, a hairs-breadth from Rumia's skin as she cheerfully egged him on, off the well maintained grounds and into the forest, through leafy trees and between solid trunks, where a time or two the blades of his Valkyrie would become lodged for a moment. Minutes passed.

"Ah... I'm bored, sir Guiche~" Rumia declared.

"Do you think I care ANYTHING for your mood, wretched little beast?"

"Is that so...? Hm~ Well, let's play a different game, now, sir Guiche. A fun game! Seek me out where I hide~"

"I'm not playing games with you!" Guiche insisted, as Rumia floated above the canopy. "... Ugh. Foul little familiar. I shall have to have words with Louise about its behavior. For now I..."

He paused, a slow sense of realization settling in as he looked around scenery that would only be vaguely familiar to him at best in the daylight hours, and was utterly alien under starlight.

"I... where am I? Which way is out of this forest?

In the meantime, Rumia had drifted down to the place of the rendevous, where the girl had polished off the rest of a bottle on her own, and was eagerly setting into some manner of pastry. She watched for a moment, as the girl licked cream away from rough-looking fingers.

"Hello~" She called out, and the girl gave a start, peering blearily out into the darkness through what was no doubt a drunken haze.

"... Sir Guiche?" She called hesitantly. "Is that you?"

"Not so~" Rumia answered. "Poor sir Guiche is alone and cold, lost in the wood..."

The girl didn't seem to particularly care. Hm. How interesting!

"Will you help him, the poor lost boy?"

"... What help might I be?" The girl asked blearily. "Sir Guiche is a noble, his magics will see him safe."

"Not so, if he has lost his wand~" Rumia said, without hesitation. "Dropped it, the rose, perhaps in a babbling brook, where a fish took it and swam away. He would be helpless and afraid~"

The woman gasped in sudden horrified dismay, the tale seeming perfectly reasonable to her through the alcohol clouding her reason.

"Oh no! Poor sir Guiche..."

"I could guide you to him." Rumia said flippantly. "Would he not be indebted to you, hm? I wonder what he might offer his rescuer~"

The girl's eyes flashed with a sudden, momentary greed, and she rose to her feet, staggering as the world whirled about her.

"Follow my voice~" Rumia called eagerly as she floated away, the girl stumbling drunkenly after her.

She led her into the forest, calling back mild encouragement and suggestions of how pleased Guiche would be if she found him, only to stop as they came to a halt in a small clearing.

"... Ah?" The girl moaned in confusion. "Where are we, miss familiar? I hear no brook... I see nobody. Is sir Guiche not here?"

"So he is not~" Rumia admitted, and lunged.

Guiche found his way out of the forest some time later to find all the pastries eaten, and Rumia smiling as she finished off the last off his wine.

"Ah, sir Guiche!" She declared cheerily. "You've found me~"

"Wretched familiar." He groaned in exhaustion. "... Where is Anna?"

"The girl?" Rumia asked, tilding head to one side before smiling. "I said where you were. And now she is gone~"

"She went into the woods? Alone?" Guiche asked, eyes widening. "Why... it's dangerous! Wolves travel these forests at night. She could be dead now!"

Rumia shrugged idly.

"That may be so~"

"Do you care nothing for it? Ugh... I will pray to the founder she returns safe, else I might be held responsible. I should cut you down where you stand..."

"Hm? Perhaps Sir Guiche would like to play again~"

Guiche snorted in profound disgust.

"I will still have my satisfaction of you... but at a place and time of my choosing. We will duel in the walled enclosure of the Vestri Court, at high noon. You'll not make a fool of me again, running and hiding in the dark like vermin."

Rumia tilted her head, then smiled as she floated up and away, leaving Guiche to puzzle out how to deal with the mess made of his picnic.


	3. Chapter 3

"What. Did. You. Do." Louise said clearly, deliberately, entire body trembling from the effort it took her to remain calm. That her familiar was affecting an oblivious confusion didn't help matters.

"Guiche has been standing in the middle of a courtyard since before I woke. He skipped classes, had breakfast delivered, and hasn't made any attempt to flirt with anyone. They say he's waiting for you to show up for a duel- he's never been this serious about anything before. Which means, somehow, while I was asleep, you managed to enrage him beyond all reason. How."

"I saw him meeting with a girl... and I was hungry. So I played with them a little, and then ate~" Rumia answered cheerfully.

Louise groaned indecipherably.

"... you ruined one of that playboy's little trysts, then." She said glumly. "Ugh. That would do it. But why?"

"I was hungry, and food appeared." Rumia repeated, as though it should be obvious.

"That's... You'd eaten an entire cow before I went to bed, how could you still have been hungry? You stripped it to the bones! You ate the bones! There wasn't even a spot of blood on the floor left." she finished, giving off a sense of incapability to comprehend how that had been pulled off.

Rumia just shrugged vaguely.

"... Tch. Well... maybe if you apologized, and I paid for the food, he'd drop things... but ugh, if he'd expected any sort of companionship from his playing about, that won't be nearly enough to salve his pride..."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Because Guiche is a Noble." Louise explained. "So am I, of course,which makes things better and worse. Better, because if it was just you and him, there would be nothing to be done if he decided to bring his entire noble family against you. You may be... unique, as familiars go, but if he complained loud and hard enough, the rest of his family would send at least a half-dozen triangle class mages just to appease him. Worse, because while I can shield you to some degree from that sort of political maneuvering, if he pushes things far enough I'll probably have to back down and give some sort of concession."

"... Why would you want to do that?" Rumia asked again, head tilted to the side.

"Because as my familiar, you are an extension of myself." Louise continued wearily. "It's... it's politics. And it seems like he does have a valid complaint to bring to bear, trifling though others might consider it. If it doesn't get settled, and neither of us backs down, then it could lead to a fued opening between our families. I don't know how Guiches's parents might react to something like that..." Her face went an odd shade of pale, with a tinge of green as she hesitated. "... But I'm sure that whatever concession might be demanded can't possibly be as bad as what my lady-Mother might do to express her displeasure."

"... that sounds complicated." Rumia decided after a long moment, as the smell of singed hair filled the room. "And boring. You should just get stronger, so that everyone does what you say and you don't have to listen to anyone."

Louise hacked slightly as she tried to choke on her tongue and erupt in hysterical laughter at the same time.

"That... humans don't work that way." she managed after a moment. "Except some barbarian tribes. Even if I was the queen, and even if I was the match of a hundred other mages, there would still be dissenters, factions I would have to placate and political games I would have to play."

"Just get rid of everyone who doesn't do what you say." Rumia advised seriously.

"That would make me a tyrant, and I don't even want to be queen!" Louise objected.

Rumia simply stared blankly, as the scent of burnt hair intensified.

"... I don't get humans." She admitted, after a minute had passed.

Louise waved Rumia down in the courtyard, just a few minutes before the appointed time.

"There's... no chance at all that I can just convince you to apologize for this, is there." She stated wearily.

"Why would I apologize? He brought food out into the night, where I was. What happened after was only to be expected." Rumia said grumpily, darkness around her intensified to block out as much of the sunlight as possible, so that she was only the barest outline of a figure inside of the floating orb.

"Just... please. Don't die." Louise requested, face twisting with a mix of emotions, mostly the dread of her greatest, even only, success simply falling from her grip. "If you think you're going to die, surrender, and I can make him stop!"

Rumia giggled.

"... 'Surrender'?"

Without a further word, she floated forward, to hover before Guiche, who wasted no time in conjuring his full complement of Valkyrie.

"So you have come." He stated simply. "... you either know something of honor, or you are more a fool than I expected."

"It's hooot..." Rumia complained.

"Tch. Vexing to the last, familiar? Don't think I'll spare you just because the light of the sun doesn't agree with you..."

"Hrm... I want to go back inside and sleep." Rumia continued. "It's too hot. It's too bright. I don't like the day. I'll... just have to finish playing quickly."

"This is not a game, familiar!"

"Is it not?" came the reply, and there were suddenly twin pinpricks of red within the orb. Then it bulged grotesquely, swelling outwards and spilling forth as it expanded, light dimming as the air cooled. The crowd of milling students, come to watch, broke out in awed, though confused mutters at the display. Louise's familiar had, at least within the bounds of the courtyard, made the day into night.

"What trickery be this..." Guiche said, eyes widening as he looked around. The light had dimmed to that of a fully-moonlit night: enough to see by, but not fantastically well.

"Come, human." Rumia declared, eyes blazing with crimson light. "Show me the power you would use to cut me down. Show me your reason for confidence, why you walk in my domain without fear. Or apologize with your flesh!"

"Apologize... Apologize! To you!?" Guiche was trembling with barely contained rage now. "Valkyrie! Cut her to pieces!"

Three golems surged forth, haltingly, and it was the work of a moment for Rumia to slip around them, to pass through them even as a nagging itch at her scalp was brushed away with her disinterest in thought, and to surge into a lunge at Guiche, intending fully to punish the human for his temerity. And then the fourth Valkyrie, the one she had lost track of rose from its concealment beneath the earth, slamming an unexpected fist into her stomach, and launching her back into the gathered and waiting golems behind her.

Guiche smirked as they lashed out with their broadswords, slashing and stabbing as she passed, even as one lost its grip as the blade lodged in the familiars ribcage, and she crashed into a heap on the ground. His plan had been enacted perfectly. Flawlessly, even, despite the unexpected hindrance of low visibility. That was what came of being the son of a General, he supposed smugly, as he sniffed delicately at a rose, eyes closed with satisfaction.

A giggle reached his ears, and his eyes snapped open in disbelief.

Rumia stood there, beyond his golems, having risen from the ground to float in place, smiling widely. Without mirth. Deep rents had been carved into her flesh, through her clothes. The did not bleed, but seemed to show only a deeper darkness beneath the skin. The sword remained lodged in place, surely, surely piercing heart and lung alike... she tugged it free with two fingers, as though it were no more than a toothpick, and cast it aside without interest.

"Heee... How interesting. You've killed me once, now, sir Guiche. Better than I had expected! I might have a little fun after all~"

"Valkyrie-" Guiche began to order, only to be interrupted.

"Tooooo late, it's my turn!"

Dozens of angrily glowing red orbs, each individually larger than Rumia herself was, blasted forward towards Guiche with ominous intent.

"What." Was all he managed before bodily throwing himself out of the way, and noting that all the fingertips of one of Rumia's hands were suddenly glowing brightly. Then thin lasers fired out of them, focused at his prone position. He had a moment to roll out of the way before they bulged outwards with intense heat, searing a pit into the stone where they had focused. "What." He tried again, scrambling to his feet as best he could to hurl himself out of the oncoming paths of brightly colored giant balls of oncoming pain, still not sure what the hell was happening now.

"Run, run!" Rumia urged cheerily. "Keep dodging, sir Guiche, my barrage will huuuurt if it hits~"

"Wh-what kind of twisted magic..."

"The fun kind~" Rumia declared. "Demarcation!"

A.N.

If you frequent a certain forum, you've probably already seen these. If not, then enjoy~

Figured I'd indulge my review whoring a little and post here too, see how it went.


	4. Chapter 4

"Thirteen thousand new gold."

Louise flinched at the number, even as Rumia, floating at her side, looked both confused and unimpressed.

"That is the estimated expense for the repair of the Vestri court." The headmaster continued, in a gently chiding tone. "Including the filling of potholes, repair of the destroyed patches of marble stonework and walkways, the replacement of the fountain, the rebuilding of the gazebo, and the manpower required to patch up the three of the vestri court's walls that were brought down in the course of this ill fated... hm, duel, if it can reasonably be called that at this point. Oh, do get up off the floor, dearie, there's no need to grovel. The youth can be counted on to, if anything, make errors in judgement and I can't honestly say anyone saw something like this coming. Especially not young Guiche. Has he recovered, by the by?"

"He's locked himself in the bathroom, sir, with a dozen candles and a half dozen oil lamps. He shows no sign of acknowledging anyone else's presence." A nurse spoke up, leaving Louise flinching once more. "Previously, he had occupied the space beneath his bed, curled up and sobbing, however he vacated the position with unusual alacricity when miss Louise's familiar crawled under after him to see what he was doing."

"I like Sir Guiche." Rumia declared cheerily. "He doesn't squish easily."

"Ah, youth." The headmaster chuckled through his beard. "In any case, the money has to come from somewhere, and while some costs can be cut with instructors willing to work at cost, and while I can temporarily dip into other funds to cover what remains, that money must be replaced. I think it only fair that a fine be imposed to the culprits of this little indiscretion, don't you my dear? Capital." He continued, without a chance for Louise to answer either way. "The total revised sum is merely eight thousand new gold. Divided between yourself and Guiche, that would be... a fine of four thousand new gold apiece, for crossing the rules regarding duels, and destruction of property. Should I have a notice penned to your family regarding it?"

"No!" Louise barked, eyes going almost wild for a moment before she could restrain herself. "No, that... that will not be neccessary. This was a personal fault, and... and I see no need to bring others into it." She finished desperately, sweating lightly and trembling. "I will find a way to pay the debt on my own."

The headmaster stroked his beard for a few long moments before shrugging and accepting the matter. He had, after all, met Karin the Heavy Wind on numerous occasions, and couldn't help but admit that the thought of the girl before him desperately begging for money was... yes, worthy of pity indeed. He could only assume that the end result would have worked out much the same in any case, albeit with a different party holding the debts.

"Well, you'll have the time to consider how to earn that sum, I suppose." He said. "Classes are hereby on hold for the next fortnight, until repairs have been properly made, after all. I can give you at the very least that much time to find some means of repayment. In any case, miss Rumia?"

"He _started_ it." She insisted sulkily, before the old man could get another word out. "And it's not like I knew your stuff wasn't guarded against bullets, if he didn't want to fly then he shouldn't have picked a fight where there was a bunch of stuff that could break."

"Oho, that's not what I wanted to say, m'dear." The old man chortled. "The fact of the matter is, however, that we haven't yet gotten a glimpse of the runes bestowed upon you by the summoning, and I must admit that I, at the very least, am somewhat curious. If I could trouble you to, hm, lessen the intensity of your shadows for a few moments?"

"Don't want to." Rumia sulked again, darkness actually deepening further about her in direct opposition to the old man's request.

"Do it." Louise snapped, in ill temper, before heaving breath and softening her tone. "Just... just the runes, okay? You don't have to drop the rest if you don't want to. And I'll get you a nice, juicy rabbit from the kitchens afterwards..."

Rumia grumped softly to herself, but after a few moments, stuck out a hand, and the darkness around it faded slowly away, until pale skin and black symbols were visible... for only a brief moment before she tugged it back and shadow swirled eagerly to fill the empty spot in her shell.

"Thank you, dear." the headmaster said brightly, scribbling down a doodle of the runes on the back of some piece of handy paperwork that had been lying near. "I'll have someone glance through the libraries to see if we find a match for this. In the meantime... well, don't let me keep you two, ladies. I'm sure you've a significant amount of contemplation ahead of you, over the next few days."

"... thousand." Louise mumbled softly to herself. "Four... thousand new gold. Agh, what am I going to do, my allowance for the year was only four hundred, and I've already spent..."

"Is that a lot?" Rumia asked idly, floating on her back through the air near her.

"Of _course_ that's a lot of... ugh, of course. You wouldn't have any use for money. Except clothes, if those are real, maybe."

Louise stared out the window, knuckles going white as she watched the beginning of the reconstruction already under way, then heaved the blinds shut with such force they nearly tore down from their hangings.

"Damn it!" She groaned. "If I was an Earth mage, I could help with reconstruction, or transmute some sort of metal and sell it to blacksmiths. If I was a Water mage I could peddle healing of some sort, or higher quality potions. If I was a Fire or Wind mage, I could... I could do _something_ useful, and earn money."

"Is that so~" Rumia mused. "Then... are you a... _wood_ mage?" she wondered aloud, haphazardly.

"Of course not!" Louise scoffed. "Who ever heard of something that ridiculous... there are only five elements, and Void has been lost. I'm no kind of mage! The only thing I can reliably do is screw up somehow, and blow things up, and..."

She realized she was becoming a little hysterical and sat down abruptly, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Her familiar, predictably, cared nothing for her emotional distress.

"Hm... why not take someone else's-"

"That would make me a bandit, a common thief." Louise shot back, head buried in her hands. "Ugh... my lady-Mother is _already _going to tear wet strips off my hide for this, no need to make things worse for myself. I'm already a _disappointment_, being a _disgrace_ as well would be too much to bear..."

Rumia tilted her head in incomprehension.

"Hm. I don't get it. You can't do magic-stuff to get what you want, and you can't just take it from someone. What's left after that?"

"... Commoner labor." Louise answered, a sense of disgust pervading her tone. "Or... things that would be even worse for me to have to explain than thievery. And I can't imagine that... minding a shop like some merchant, or shoveling dung, could possibly get me the money I need, in just two weeks."

Louise leaned back in her chair, staring for a long moment at the ceiling.

"... I need air." She decided. "I feel like the walls are going to crash down on me. I need to go out. Ugh... it's a long shot, but maybe if I walk through the village I'll find... something I can do."

She shook her head and rose.

"Come, familiar."

Rumia spooked animals. Louise supposed that was only to be expected, given that she was obviously some sort of predator, but it was no less annoying to have a mount trembling as she drew near, shying away and threatening to bolt at any sudden movement. The short trip into town had been troublesome right from the start, and of course she hadn't found anything. Noble or not, people had laughed her out of buildings when she asked if they knew of any way to earn that sort of sum within a fortnight. She would have to head back to the academy soon, or miss dinner, but for now she simply sat by an ornate fountain and sulked.

Her familiar wasn't next to her. Instead she was some distance off, casually staring at a board. having nothing better to do, she rose and approached.

"What have you found, there?" She asked dully. "Reading?"

"I'm looking at the pictures." Rumia answered simply. "And the squiggles."

"You can't read." Louise responded with, she realized after a moment, no real sense of surprise at this admission.

"They're very _pretty_ squiggles." Rumia continued. "Hm. I just don't know why so many people would want to have pictures of themselves hung around on boards. Most of them aren't very pretty themselves."

"Those aren't-" Louise began wearily, then stopped as she stood in place, reading the words that she'd only been looking at a moment ago.

Then, as everything clicked into place, she ripped them down.


	5. Chapter 5

"Did you hear the news?"

The outpost in the woods had been little more than a shack, but it housed the first two of her targets, a pair of brothers that had taken to holding up the occasional less-guarded mercantile supply wagon that passed along a little used road. The bounty on their heads was low, but it was the first stop on what Louise had charted as the most efficient path.

"Jaques and Frederic DuChris. Today you face justice for your crimes, either by trial at the nearest village, or in your summary executions. Surrender, and you have my word as a noble that you will not come to harm at my hand, and it will reflect well on you when the magistrate considers your case."

The moment of silence had been expected, following her declaration. The crossbow bolt, whizzing out of a cracked open window to bury itself heavily into Louise's shoulder, had most emphatically not been.

"Hm? What does the rumor mill have to say?"

"It's about _that_ Louise..."

"Gustav the Shining Droplet, your plaguing of small villages with controlled tribe of goblin raiders has not gone unnoticed, and you will answer for your crimes! Surrender and face trial, or die!"

Louise swore softly to herself and unholstered her wand as, instead of calling back, the cavern suddenly teemed with a flood of cackling, greenskinned and warty humanoids, drawing rusty knivesand throwing spears as they poured out to the attack.

"Oh, really? I haven't seen her about lately. What on earth has she been getting up to?"

"Who knows? But here's the thing, she's not been doing it _here_. She's not been on the grounds at all for almost two weeks!"

"Genevieve the Toxic Widow, your many husbands cry out for revenge from beyond the grave! I've come for your head!"

A shrill, banshee-like cry answered her from within the cottage, and Louise hurreidly shifted behind a nearby tree as the by-now expected bolts whizzed past. She peered around and aimed her wand, at the very least able to provide a point of entry for her familiar.

Afterwards, she heaved the body up onto the table and hunted out a suitable butcher's cleaver from the kitchen drawers. All that the bounties required was that the heads be intact, so that they could be positively identified, and while she could drag the whole corpse along, it was... this was just so much easier. So much messier, as well, and a part of her quailed inside as she held the knife, but after several deep breaths she brought the blade high and back down.

It took several hacking chops to finally seperate it from the rest of the cumbersome body, after which she ordered Rumia to drag the corpse off into the wilderness and deal with it, because she didn't think she could handle digging a grave as well, and staggered off to her horse, to make her way to the nearest town and claim the few hundred gold pieces this woman's death was worth.

"They say that the headmaster issued a fine, you know." One student whispered conspiratorially. "A significant sum. I suppose she might have gone home, to try to beg for her family to pay it for her..."

"What, that Louise? I can't imagine it going well.. and rightly. What kind of noble family would shell out so much as a single new gold, for a failure like that? No, I think she _ran away_." another student answered, seeming to absolutely relish the juiciness of the possibility.

She wanted to run. She wanted to run, but she couldn't. She was trapped, pinned down. Rumia was inside the caverns, dealing with the majority of the bandit outpost, but they'd missed a patrolling ruffian. He'd caught her off guard and knocked her down, her wand still out of reach, and he was sitting on her chest, hands wrapped around her throat.

He was breathing heavily. No. Panting, feverish sweat breaking out. He was getting... ugh, the _foul_, wretched little plebian! She could not allow this. She would not.

Her scrambling hands found a hilt at his belt, even as her vision began to go grey around the edges, and she tugged it free only to slam it into his yielding belly. He squealed like the stuck pig he was, lurching and tumbling off of her, clutching at his wound as she scrambled away. By the time he'd pulled the knife free, she had the tip of her wand pressed into his back.

A moment later, she only blearily managed to reflect that it was fortunate there as no bounty on hi head in particular, because there had been very little recognizable left, from what was splattered all over the trees... over the ground... over her _face _whgh... She stumbled to the side and, heaving, vacated everything she'd taken for that morning's breakfast.

"Oh, oh, do you see? Speaking to the headmaster there? That's _Karin the Heavy Wind_!"

"That's... _what_." A note of feverish, near hero-worship entered the speaker's voice. "What's _she _doing here?"

"Thomas, son of James." She called out, knowing by now that it was a poor decision tactically, but unable to give up the introduction, the biggest thing that kept her feeling like she was in the _right _as she went about this work. "Please surrender."

Unusually, he came out of the farmstead, surrendering immediately, only hesitating to quietly murmur to the woman and child standing nearby him.

"So you've finally come." He said quietly, as Louise bound his wrists awkwardly with rope, having had no prior experience with actually taking her targets alive. "I am prepared."

She brought him into town and watched as the trial was rushed through and he was brought to a raised podium, forced to kneel before the chopping block as the list of his crimes was read aloud... most of which amounted to 'poaching from a noble's forest', with one count of 'waylaying a wagon of supplies intended for a noble's gala'.

He smiled sadly, and she turned away as the heavy axe swung down. The gold she was awarded by the magistrate for her efforts seemed unusually cold and heavy to Louise, and she couldn't help but privately think that maybe, just perhaps, she'd have done better to simply skip this stop entirely.

"You don't _know_? She's that Louise's own mother."

"... what, that Zero? No way... huh, I suppose even the best trees can bear a bad fruit now and again."

Matthias the winemaker was really Grigori, a saboteur in the hire of a specific merchant company... though none of the others could prove the connection, they were more than pleased to offer gold for his removal. Living in a busy town, the matter had required a little more tact than usual.

She'd still had to blast his door down and send Rumia in to drag him out, screaming. He surrendered at the sight of her wand. And then, once her guard was down, he'd drawn his dagger, and opened up the side of her torso. Rumia had responded instantly to the assault, and ripped him limb from limb before he could do more.

Even so, the dagger had been poisoned, and despite the familiar's enthusiasm in sucking the noxious fluid out, and the healer she'd been sent to at no charge, she spent most of the night feverishly sweaty, seeing things and hearing voices that weren't there, and producing foul liquids from both ends until the last had been purged.

The doors to the hall slammed open, and Louise shambled through, all idle chatter silencing at the sight of her. She was clearly worse for the wear, uniform having been repeatedly torn and mended, a few clear bloodstains visible, as were bandages, and a haggard, exhausted look in her eyes, her familiar floating eerily nearby. She gave no thought to the other students, who after a moment began once more to murmur amongst themselves, but strode without hesitation up to the head table, where old Osmond sat. She hesitated then, at the sight of her mother standing sternly to the side, but shook herself through it and heaved a carry-sack up onto the dinner table, withought regard for propriety or dirt.

She loosed a drawstring, and a torrent of shining coins and folded papers poured free.

"Four thousand new gold." She stated quietly. "As the fine was agreed to be."

The headmaster picked up a coin, in mild disbelief as he checked it for veracity, then unfolded one of the papers. At the sight of the sketched face within, with a great 'X' marked through it, a sadness overtook his features.

"Ah... I see. You have been headhunting." He said, as quietly as she. "... It is not a happy pastime."

"So I have learned." She replied. She shook her head and continued. "Classes, they... continue tomorrow, correct? If I could request that a servant bring a meal up to my room, so I might get a head start at trying to cleanse myself, it would be much appreciated."

"Yes, of course. Take your time..."

Louise stalked away, and mutterings faded almost politely as she passed through, only to kick up in earnest again once she was beyond hearing. But a bath, a real bath rather than a bucket of cold water and a scratchy cloth, awaited her and she would not be denied simply for such a small matter.

Karin entered the room as she soaked. Several long minutes passed before either of them spoke a word, and then Louise broke the silence.

"Does... does it ever get easier?" She asked, in a small, lost tone.

"Not until you have frozen your heart, and forged your soul as steel." Was her mother's simple, stoic reply. After another long period of silence, she continued. "The debt has already been arranged to be handled. I suppose the chiding I had planned will not be necessary. Instead, the sum you have gathered will be left to you. Spend it at your discretion, you've earned it through your own deeds."

Karin silently left, and Louise spent a long time staring at the ceiling before she broke out into hysterical, tearful laughter, until her voice grew hoarse. It had been... the warmest, most _approving _she'd seen her mother act towards her in a long time. Every bit the recognition she had so earnestly sought.

And for that regard, she had only needed to snuff out the lives of two dozen goblins, seventeen humans, and an ornery dog that had woken up at precisely the wrong time.


	6. Chapter 6

Louise was, to put it simply, astonished at how rapidly everything returned to what could only be considered the status quo, for the vast majority of the students, even once the whole story had leaked. Certainly, Guiche was even now still unduly nervous about such things as dark corridors and wide open antechambers and lawns, and he tended to make hasty excuses to be elsewhere if it seemed like Rumia was settling in near wherever he was. Also, most certainly, the majority of the student body _knew _that she'd spent the past fortnight murdering her way through an assorted gallery of rogues. But it seemed to have changed nothing, save her status in the eyes of her mother.

In particular, she couldn't _imagine _why the some were so eager to jump on any chance to poke fun at her expense, knowing _full well_ that she had blood on her hands. That she no longer tried to strike out at them in recompense was taken as a tacit admission of weakness, and they only redoubled their efforts, and... she didn't even see the point in it, anymore. She'd never been skilled enough at aiming that she'd actually managed to hit home against someone who had riled her, but knowing now what could, almost certainly _would _have happened if she had...

She couldn't bring herself to do more than pity them anymore, even as she deliberately stayed her hand, not truly wanting her classmates _dead_, in spite of how irritating some might be.

Even more, while she couldn't imagine _where _they'd gotten the notion, as Louise herself had long become unable to even pretend her familiar was human, rather than the whimsical, terrifyingly powerful beast hiding beneath the disguise, it seemed to have become 'common knowledge' that Rumia was the child of some until now unknown barbarian tribe of some sort, and her powers had, it seemed, been explained away after several heavy debates as some sort of tribal magic. Quite clearly more useful in some few ways here and there than their own spells, but at the same time, so very _limited _and indeed, doubtfully capable of _anything _beyond what they'd already seen.

She'd been gobsmacked, and argued herself near-hoarse with the insistence that, no, her familiar just plain _wasn't-human_, only to be sent off with a knowing chuckle and a remark that she would be late for class if she tarried much longer.

It was... just absolutely _infuriating_, in some ways. Yes, there were only so many things she could be, if limited to what they already knew, though in that case Louise herself was leaning towards a very minor nature spirit of some sort, but was the thought that she was something they _hadn't _ever seen before truly so baffling, so much more unbelievable than that she simply had _magic _of a sort they had never seen before?

It seemed to have been a logical progression on their part. Her form was humanoid, so that limited what she might be. They were not all already dead, and so she was quite clearly not an Elf. She had no wings or other clearly monstrous features, and neither was the skin which Osmond had seen green, which ruled out essentially all monstrous humanoids noted within the library entirely. And so, the only conclusion remaining had been that she was, in fact, a human, and then they had toasted themselves on a fine bit of logic all around and based all their further deductions on that fundamentally flawed piece of information. Never mind the alien mindset and motivations, or the bizarre strength, or the fact that Guiche had _run her through _and she'd not been bothered, or even the simple fact that she regularly and routinely, without thought, addressed others as "you, Human", they had neatly tied up all the loose ends into a satisfying conclusion that fit all the evidence they were considering nicely. That they were _wrong _was entirely beside the point, and they would not be troubled to consider outlandish theories when a more reasonable conclusion had already been reached.

And even so, all she could say with certainty was that there was one thing Rumia was not, which was Human. She still didn't know what she might be, though she sometimes quietly wondered if even knowing might be some sort of heresy against the church of the founder, proving him in even a small way to have been _wrong_, imperfect, if there had been some sort of thinking being he had not been aware of, should Rumia prove not to be a spirit after all.

And so, once more, she was in the eyes of all Louise the Zero, only now with a bizarre, floating barbarian child tagging about with her.

It was enough to give her quite the headache, taken all at one.

"...-se. Louise." The instructor called, and Louise snapped to attention, realizing that she'd allowed her attention to wander, this was not the first time she'd been called upon, and that her classmates were giggling around her.

"Hm... my dear, I understand you may have had a _trying _time of it recently, but the classroom is not the place for idle flights of fancy." Chevreuse lectured sternly. "Now, I wonder if you've learned anything on your little outing that you'd like to share with the class?"

Learned? She had learned...

_-the sensation of a rusty iron arrowhead grinding against bone as you desperately levered it free, still in a dazed shock, the pitch of a man's voice as his own blade slid through flesh to rub against thick, ropy guts, how many strikes it takes to cleave through a womans neck with an unsharpened cleaver, how to destroy a family, dragging a man who's wrongdoing was minimal at best to his death and leaving behind a grieving widow and a child that would grow up in hatred-_

"... no..." She choked out. "Nothing fit to be spoken of, or that the class would care to hear."

"Ah. A shame. Some mages have their finest moments of inspiration while in the countryside, traveling from place to place." Chevreuse remarked wistfully. "Never mind, though. Do come down dear, let's have you take a shot at transmuting this rock."

Instantly, the demeanor of the class changed from 'genial scorn' to 'outright panic' as most of the students frantically argued against this course of action. Louise herself sagged backwards in her chair, not certain what she wanted to do even as the instructor silenced the naysayers and bid her once more to come down and see what she could do.

Louise didn't need to see what she could do. She knew what she could do. That, in and of itself, was essentially the entire problem. Still, there wasn't much she could do against direct orders from an instructor, phrased as suggestions though they may be. Her wrist trembled slightly, when she made it to the floor and brought up her wand to-

_-jam the tip up against the foul little wretches spine and invoke magic, it didn't matter what kind, every magic she tried turned out more or less the same anyway, then watch as he didn't so much blast apart as SPLASH outwards, gore spattering everywhere, her tongue darting up to test her upper lip out of habit before she realized what had just-_

-her arm drooped and she brought a hand up to her mouth, fighting down the rising bile, even as Chevreuse suddenly seemed slightly concerned about her.

"Dearie, you just went _dreadfully _pale all of a sudden, are you certain you're quite all right? Hm... you seem a bit clammy." She thought aloud, bressing fingers to Louise's forehead without thought to ask permission and frowning. "Hm... oh, but your color's already coming back in nicely. I suppose it might be best for you to speak with a healer about that. Well, hurry up then, I'll send you off straight after."

This was the last thing she wanted to do. But Louise swallowed dryly and raised her wand, muttering the incantation.

Of _course _it ended with an explosion.

She'd known full well it would, but in the hubbub now and complaints all she could see was that Chevreuse had been knocked prone from the shockwave, and there was a bit of blood dripping down from a nick at her temple and _-blood, blood everywhere, sprayed across the clearing, across the trees and the grass, all over her, the gore, oh god, this lump in her hair, what is it, what WAS it, she washed and scrubbed until her skin felt raw, but hadn't felt clean for days- _suddenly she was half stumbling, half running from the room, world whirling about her in a confused daze until she found herself in her room, heaving into a porcelain toilet.

After a moment, she felt her hair being drawn back by awkward hands, she'd not cared enough to pull it away from the bowl and now the tips were... ugh. being drawn carefully between cloth to wipe away the nastiness, thoush she'd still have to wash properly again later.

"... Are you... well, my lady?" The soft, concerned voice came again. A maid. Some servant that had been in her quarters tidying up before she'd returned unexpectedly, and... she couldn't think straight.

"... No." Louise croaked softly, unable to think of anything else she could really say, to deny the simple fact. "I feel faint. My stomach has twisted itself in knots. If I close my eyes, I can still see as though it just happened, can almost... taste..."

She heaved again, partially digested mess splattering as her stomach wrenched.

"Let's... alright, just, um, take deep breaths." The maid advised, clearly out of her depth. "I'll fetch a healer, but first let's clean your face... um, maybe have you lie down..."

Louise's muscles felt weak, and she surrendered herself to the tending of the maid, lying quietly as the healer came, hemmed and hawed, and then pronounced that he could find _absolutely nothing wrong with her _aside from the obvious healing wounds, no illness or infection of any kind that might have provoked such a physiological response.

She couldn't really muster up the will to move, after that, and simply lay quietly in bed until the maid returned.

"Ah... lady Valliere... Instructor Colbert has sent for you."

"Sit down." The bald teacher said calmly, Tabitha almost ignoring the both of their presence as she flipped a page in her book.

He watched as Louise flopped bonelessly into the armchair, and then without words withdrew a large crystal decanter and poured a measure of... what by the smell could only be some form of alcohol into it, and slid it across the table towards her.

"Drink it." He instructed.

"The rules of the academy technically forbid-"

"I am well aware of the school rules, madame Valliere." Colbert countered before she could even finish the sentence. "Should headmaster Osmond choose to pursue what transpires within this room, I shall take the fullness of the blame upon myself. I will not make this an order, but I do strongly advise it: Drink."

Louise hesitated for a moment, then reached out and took the cup, crinkling her nose and taking a tentative sip. She almost spat it right out.

"It's _foul_."

"It wasn't distilled for flavor. it's a peasant concoction, a particularly potent mixture." Colbert explained. "Equally viable as drink, fire-starter, metal polisher, or drainage pipe cleaner. it also tends to have the fortunate side effect of blunting the edges of memory. I suggest draining the entire draft in one go, it will hit you a little harder, but the taste will be gone sooner."

Louise grimaced, but after a moment tilted the cup backwards, gulping rapidly before setting it down.

"Good. Now... the healer found nothing wrong with you. They never do." Colbert said wearily. "It's something more known as 'blooding aftereffects'. When you've killed someone for the first time. It hits particularly hard if you'd never expected you would ever have to kill someone at all. The mind just isn't prepared. Healers, though, they only work with what they can determine of the body. If it's 'all in your mind', then it's usually not real to them. it's very difficult for them to grasp that something can, indeed, be 'all in the head'... and yet have perfectly real effects."

"Is that... why you called me here, professor?" Louise asked quietly.

"Yes." Colbert aswered without hesitation. "When it comes down to it... I very much doubt there are many people in this academy who are not currently in this room who will _really _understand your situation. They won't quite grasp why you suddenly behave the way you do. Guilt. Memory. It will mean little, nothing, or less than nothing to them. "They were just Bandits." "It was just some commoners." "They were peasants. It's not like they were _real _people.""

The maid shifted uncomfortably near the door, and Colbert shook his head.

"It almost never really... clicks. They can't really grasp it. Not without a situation arising where, suddenly, they understand all to well. In truth, I can only hope as many of them that can retain that callous innocence do so." He said wistfully.

After a moment, he carefully took off his glasses, rubbed at the lenses, and put them back on.

"In all the students, I believe only you two have ever killed another living being, much less a human."

"Chevalier." Tabitha murmured quietly.

"Yes, quite. I'm afraid it can't always be avoided in your case." Colbert replied. "Even so... of the entire faculty, unless someone has approached miss Tabitha in the capacity I've offered myself, I seem to be the only instructor who's past is... not spotless."

He finished with a wry tone, then shook his head.

"My runic title is 'the Fire Serpent'. Flames are... a terrible way to die. Not graceful. Not noble. Not _clean_. I can still recall the first time my flames ended another man's life. I don't believe anyone ever forgets that. I will not ask you for details on your own memories, however, Miss Louise. I've found while pain shared can be halved, it can also be _doubled _with the same stroke. However... I am here. I cannot always watch out for every student. There's simply too many of you to keep track of, and in most cases little issues are either so small to be almost entirely unimportant, or they neatly solve themselves with no outside influence. But for you two, I will make time. If you have some need of me, I will answer. Whether you need someone to yell at, a place to away from prying eyes and gossip, or just enough of that paint stripper to kill your memories long enough for a full night's sleep. I've offered this to Tabitha before. Now I offer it to you as well."

"... Thank you." Louise mumbled honestly, though she made no move to reach for the cup again, and Tabitha simply flipped another page, seeming to still be reading. Her eyes hadn't moved an iota across the script, however.

"Miss Siesta." Colbert called, now addressing the maid directly. "I trust you understand the value of discretion in this matter?"

"Of course, sir." The maid replied demurely, seeming to understand full well that Colbert was implying she might risk more than simply having to locate new employment if secrets that weren't hers to tell found their way to public ears.


	7. Chapter 7

"... I'm Gandalf? No, I'm Rumia." Rumia said seriously.

"No, my dear, not 'Gandalf'. 'The Gandalfr' is what I believe you are, the title of a legendary familiar unknown since the time of the founder Brimir himself." Osmond corrected.

"... No, I'm 'Youkai of the Dusk'." Rumia counter-corrected, not exactly grasping what the headmaster was driving at, as Louise stood to one side and sighed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose.

"In any case, the power of the Gandalfr was to be able to use any weapon flawlessly, in the defense of his master." Osmond finished. "So I have devised a small but simple test..."

Rumias features couldn't be seen, but she seemed to simply exude casual disinterest as the old man withdrew a dagger from a drawer and set it on the table.

"Do you know anything of knife-fighting, miss Rumia?"

"Why would I want to bother with something like that?" She asked right back, and the headmaster chuckled.

"Well, if you could please pick up this knife with your runed hand?"

Rumia wasn't interested, and Rumia grumbled, but eventually rumia picked up the dagger by the hilt and held it in place. Osmond could almost see the familiar runes lighting up on her hand when she did so, through her veil of gloom. he could also, just barely, notice the odd, near-imperceptible flickering about her head.

"... My hand hurts. And my head hurts." She complained morosely.

"How curious." Osmond mused. "... Tell me, were I to attack you right now, what would you do?"

"I'd wrench your head off." Rumia promised cheerily, and the headmaster coughed.

"Ah... the knife, is what I meant. What would you do with that?"

"... I'd drop it." Rumia said, tilting her head as though she wasn't particularly sure how this was a difficult concept. "Because it's useless."

Old Osmond sat back in his chair, eyes closed and stroking his beard in thought. Could he have been mistaken? No... no, he was quite sure those runes were for the Gandalfr. Though perhaps simply holding a weapon wasn't enough, and they'd have to be put into an actual combat situation before any effect became visible. Hm... or perhaps, no, there had been that odd secondary flicker. Up near her head. Was that it? Could something be interfering with the gift of the runes, preventing them from working quite properly? he could occasionally make out something like a hairpiece, now that he considered it. A disturbing thought, though he supposed he would only find out with testing...

"Miss Rumia, I would like to try-" He began, opening his eyes, only to find the familiar in question long gone.

"She got bored and flew out the window more than a minute ago." Louise said calmly, pointing to the aperture.

"... You didn't stop her?" The old man asked, tone slightly stunned to realize he'd been run out on.

"I saw little point." Louise admitted. "And it is easier to keep her in line if I only force her into line when it's really needed."

"I'm rather alarmed that you think so little of this, miss Valliere." Osmond began reproachfully. "Your familiar could be the legendary Gandalfr."

"I've seen no evidence of that, only that the runes you marked down look similar enough to pass. I've also seen that Rumia _can't _'use all weapons instantly and effortlessly, with the hand of a master'." Louise pointed out. "So... no offense to you, of course, headmaster, but isn't it a little more likely that you simply copied the runes wrong, or something?"

"Now, I'm a little more confident in my memory and sketchwork than that..." Osmond objected.

"And besides, what if she _is_?" Louise questioned again. "Let's suppose for a moment that she might be one of Brimir's Legendary familiars. What then? If people learn that she's been summoned... Not to a legendary void mage. Not to some critical political figure. Not to the reincarnation of Brimir himself... but to me. I'm the youngest daughter of a noble family, my only claim to fame is that I knew the princess for a little while when we were children and my mother is a war-hero, and most importantly I can't make _any _magic I try work properly. If you're right, and Rumia is indeed the Gandalfr, then... what? How does it matter in any way, and who would believe it even if it's true?"

Osmond shook his head, but didn't deny the points.

"Very well." He said instead. "If you absolutely insist, I'll look back to research for now, and see if I can find any other alternatives. Really, though, I would have thought you, in particular, would be ecstatic to find evidence that your familiar might be special."

"My familiar is already... special." Louise answered dryly. "I don't need to jump at wild stories in order to imagine that it's more than what it already is, though."

Osmond 'harrumph'ed in mild, bemused irritation and sent her off.

Tabitha was gone for two days, an excused absence due to other duties. When she returned, clearly weary from the flight on dragonback, late into the afternoon, sun beginning to set, Louise was waiting outside with wine and a meal. Tabitha almost left to sleep immediately before Siesta, yawning, raised the lid on a canister of spiced soup and the aroma floated outwards. The warring urges to eat and sleep flickered over her face for a moment before she sat down.

Louise said nothing as they ate, quietly. It was almost surreal to the maid's eyes, as they worked their way through the table in unison, neither speaking a word, but each responding instantly to the other's intent, passing wine or salt or what have you without the slightest hesitation. Tabitha sat back in the chair set out.

"... Peasant uprising." She said simply, then named a village. "Taxes."

Louise winced, and Tabitha nodded somberly.

"They wouldn't have stood a chance from the beginning, would they have."

"None." Tabitha replied. "Taken alive... orders. Herded conspirators into local barn. Then barred door, set barn aflame."

"Direct orders from your king? To do otherwise would have left you a traitor. There was nothing you could do."

"... Tired." Tabitha said simply, and rose partially from her seat before a shockwave rippled through the whole academy. "What..."

Louise saw it and stared for a few long moments before she really comprehended.

"Golem. It's a giant stone golem." She said dumbly, watching as the construct hammered almost futilely against the walls of the academy. "Where did it come from though, how did it get missed passing the walls-"

"Irrelevant." Tabitha said simply, lifting her staff. "Academy is under siege.

"Yes, but-"

Louise heard it before she saw, derisive laughter echoing across the courtyard, as she spied a cloaked figure balancing on the shoulder of the Golem. Tabitha took flight, as things began clicking together for Louise.

She wouldn't know how to deal with a freak chance, some golem forming from mystical eddies or nonhuman rituals gone wrong in the wilds, and somehow making its way here unseen. She wouldn't know how to manage an attack from some other kingdom in an unexpected declaration of war against Tristain. But this was nothing more or less than a criminal activity, being perpetrated by a known criminal, with a bounty on their head.

That, in and of itself, was enough to set things in order in her mind, as her body sprang to action without conscious thought, almost out of reflex towards the situation, snatching up her wand in one hand.

"Foquet, the Crumbling Earth!" She called out, not stopping to think about exactly how _horribly bad_ of an idea this was. "Your crimes stand as this: Numerous acts of theft and robbery against the nobility, willful and deliberate destruction and defacement of personal property, and repeated mockery and belittlement of the system of nobility. For these reasons, as well as your ranking as a triangle class mage, the bounty on your head has been set at no less than seventeen thousand new gold. This is the only opportunity you will be given to surrender yourself: take advantage of it now, or it will not be offered again."

"Ahahaha, what kind of a fool would I have to be to do that?" Fouquet jeered, glancing her way but otherwise not giving either of the students even the barest measure of attention as their golem kept pounding away at the wall. A tiny fragment flaked away as Louise watched, and she grit her teeth with disgust, knowing that...

... well, knowing that she could probably turn around and walk away and the entire staff would descend upon Fouquet long before the hours it would take to make even enough of a hole to stick an arm through had run down, at this rate. Fouquet seemed to grasp this as well, and the golem redoubled its efforts, leaning way back and putting its entire body into each perfectly placed strike. It still didn't look like it was going to be enough, but Fouquet seemed to be doing something to improve the golem's power even as Louise watched, and it shrugged off an Icicle from Tabitha like nothing.

Louise raised her wand. Then Louise lowered her wand, and started running to a better spot. She'd never been that good at aiming, and while she didn't think her own spells would do any better at piercing the magically reinforced walls than Fouquet was, there was no reason for her to even accidentally help the thief, no matter how small that aid might be. From a different spot, where the walls of the academy weren't directly behind the golem, just waiting for a slight misjudgement of direction to be hit instead, Louise raised her wand again, even as more ice rained down on the golem, either bouncing off or lodging in, but to no significant effect either way.

Louise tried for a fireball. It wasn't what she got, but the result was destructive enough that she was satisfied in any case, a chunk of stone the size of the golem's fist blasted outward and away, spinning to the ground as the giant construct reeled from the blow.

"... What the _devil_?" Fouquet shrilled, finally turning attention to Louise. She couldn't even pretend that might be a good thing. "Golem! _Crush _that miserable whelp, quickly!"

The Golem rose, stomping its way in her direction, and Louise lifted her wand again... only to lower it, realizing it was advancing too fast, it would reach her before she could get off another spell-

"On!" Tabitha demanded, Sylphid touching down right next to her. Louise didn't so much as spare the breath for gratitude as she heaved herself onto dragonback. There was only one saddle... irritating, and she could already feel the edges of the beast's scales rubbing through one fiber of her leggings after another, but it was still the by far preferrable option.

"Get some distance!" Louise said, as they took to the air, managing to _just _clear the Golem's stomping feet, and then the swinging arms after. "I can damage it if I have the time-"

Tabitha snorted lightly, clearly not impressed by the fact that her classmate's _accidents_, if they could still be called that if she was doing it on purpose, had more tactical effectiveness than her own spells.

Louise mumbled the chant as they flew, raising her wand and firing as Sylphid banked a quick turn to give her a clear shot. She saw two things, immediately after firing it off. First, that while Fouquet had begun to slowly fill the hole in their golem, her second spell had impacted and done possibly more damage than the first, by virtue of slamming into the construct's shoulder and severing the limb in its entirety. Second, that the Golem had just ripped a tree out of the ground and thrown it at them.

"Go up, go up, _go up_!" She screamed desperately, and Sylphid flapped in response... but not quite fast enough, as a branch clipped its tail, sending it into a sudden uncontrolled spin, an odd cry of mingled surprise and pain let loose.

Tabitha's saddle had the addition of a belt, securing her in place for just such an occasion. Louise, who was riding bareback, an action her clothes had already paid the price for and her fragile skin had only just come to protest, had no such assistance. And so, she had very suddenly found herself moving alone through the air in a wide arc, watching as the dragon pulled off desperate maneuvers, doing it's best just to right its flight pattern enough to not crash heavily into the ground, both it and rider obviously disoriented enough that they hadn't realized yet that she was missing.

Well, they were near the outer wall, and fortunately enough, it looked like she was falling in that direction, she noted dispassionately, the screaming terror of the situation having not just yet had enough time to sink in. It looked... yes, it looked like she would actually land on the top of the wall itself. That would be something of a relief, she'd probably manage to pull that off without crushing all of her bones to fine powder in a single go. A little closer. Just a little... yes she could definitely make-Oh, wait, no, she'd just started to rapidly lose altitude.

Instead of landing heavily against the top of the wall, she found herself slamming heavily into the _side _of the wall. Fortunately, though, enough luck was still with her that she had been within arms length of the top, and desperate scrabbling had gotten one hand clamped down on the edge before gravity had re-asserted itself. She breathed heavily for a moment, trying to ignore just how vocal her ribs were being in their disapproval of the most recent few seconds of her life, then carefully gripped her wand between her teeth to free up her other hand, and got a good grip there as well, starting to heave and slowly pull herself up. And then she froze.

The stonework of the wall had a special coating of some kind. She had never been interested in what it was, but the relevant detail for this situation was that it was regularly polished to an impressive mirror sheen, to the point where workers could shave by the wall, if they were so inclined. It had not been so long ago that it had been re-polished, and so Louise could see quite clearly in the stonework she was clinging to how the golem was _right behind her, single remaining fist already drawing back in preparation to crush her flatter than parchment against the wall._

There was no way she could heave herself up in time. Instead, she simply let go, pushing down and away, putting her wand back in her hand as she turned, hoping to get one last good spell in before she hit the ground, at least. Masonry shattered outwards from the impact of the golem's fist crashing through the wall entirely, clearly either the wall itself was substandard or the protections on the main building were just _very _good.

Then her thoughts were interrupted as she slammed back down onto Sylphid's back, eyes watering in pain as it darted through the area between the golem and the wall fast enough that it only withdrew its arm in time to get off a single, angry swipe as they pulled away.

"... I hope not... but I think I may have torn something just now." Louise managed to rasp through the punishing waves of resentment her entire pelvic region was radiating.

"Tendon? Muscle?" Tabitha asked quickly, worriedly.

"No. Just my maidenhead." Louise groaned.

She could feel, pressed back to back against the other girl as she was, the flinch and shudder combination response to her words as she raised her wand again and fired off another blast. It ripped away another chunk of torso, blasting away everything Fouquet had repaired and more. There was no doubt, she was simply inflicting damage faster than the other mage could fix things- if she kept it up, the battle was hers.

If she survived long enough to hit the golem enough times to bring it down, anyway.

_"Tree, tree, it's got another tree, move!" _She yelled, as the offending vegetation was hurled, and Tabitha's dragon went into a dive to avoid it. It was already stooping to wrench another loose by the time the flight leveled, and Louise wasted no time in picking a target, blasting at the construct's leg, close to the hip. Not enough to sever the limb, it was still standing, but another good shot would take it off. It was already unsteady as it hurled its improvised missile at them, and she yelled the appropriate warning.

By now, students had gathered at the windows and balconies of the academy, pointing outwards and probably talking among themselves as they reveled in the _exciting _situation and exchanges of blows. She couldn't help but want to yell at the idiots to _get back inside_, but couldn't spare any more attention than the glance from the corner of her eyes that had revealed them in the first place. At least that meant that, probably, she could expect aid from the faculty pretty soon...

And there it came. A deluge of fire, blasts of cutting wind, and myriad other attacks. _None _of which, freakishly enough, had any particular effect against Fouquet's golem. They were focused, however, on the mage controlling the construct, forcing the golem to bring up its one arm to shield its creator... cutting off the steady flow of trees, any one of which could have killed all three of them in a single solid blow, she was only just beginning to realize, and more importantly... leaving its legs unprotected and wide open.

Her next spell, with the steady flow of attacks from the teachers not letting up for a second, took off one of the golem's legs, forcing it to slump against the wrecked wall to stay upright. Another two brought the other off, sending the construct crashing to the ground, breaking apart as it fell, seeming to have taken to much damage to remain in one piece. Fouquet screamed, falling through the air to crash into the ground some distance from the cracked apart wreckage of the golem.

Sylphid touched down on the ground, and Louise lurched off, shambling, bow-legged, to the broken and twisted body on the ground. She didn't know if it was to offer the fallen mage a new chance to surrender, even against her own words, or just to finish them off humanely. Either way, it was already too late. Fouquet gurgled softly as she approached, blood bubbling from a corner of her mouth as she tried to keep breathing, and then went completely still and quiet.

She stared for a moment at the body, then turned and managed to make it three steps before the weight of everything that had just happened slammed into her like a runaway cart. She dropped to her knees, as her last meal made an abrupt reappearance, uncaring of the teachers approaching.

Osmond crouched next to the body, inspecting it, then reeled back.

"Why... Fouquet the Crumbling Earth is... this was miss Longueville, my secretary!" He declared, shocked at the discovery.


	8. Chapter 8

"Congratulations are, I suppose, in order for you girls. I'll be writing the Imperial Court with a recommendation: that you, Louise, receive the title of Chevalier, and that Tabitha be conferred the Elven Medallion, as she already holds that rank.

She didn't want it. All she'd done was flail around like a fool, nearly die over and over, and finish it off by killing someone she'd known, had held the occasional brief conversation with before... All she wanted to do right now was head back to her room and sulk for a while over the unfortunate confirmation the healer had given her, and tend to her aches. Even so, she managed some sort of terse, polite gratitude for the headmaster's efforts. That was, after all, how these things went.

"Hm, the question remains, however, how to divide the bounty." Osmond mused. "It's clear, of course, that miss Louise's spells did the majority of the damage, and were instrumental in bringing Fouquet's construct down..."

Tabitha had begun nodding, and Louise spoke up quickly.

"But, if Tabitha and her familiar hadn't been available, I wouldn't have been able to avoid the golem long enough to get so much as a second hit in before reinforcements arrived." Louise pointed out. "I don't even know where mine _was _during the incident..."

"Hm, yes, she does seem a little overly free-spirited." Osmond mused. "With your life being put in direct danger by her lack of presence, perhaps you should discipline her a little more firmly?"

"It's fine. I'm sure it'll be disappointed enough about missing this all on its own." Louise decided wearily. "Last I heard, it was going to go see if it could find the wolves in the forest."

Osmond sat up with sudden alarm.

"The forest wolves? I've received reports that the biggest pack is running with a particularly monstrous and wicked specimen of the breed. Are you sure your familiar is safe?"

"Yes, yes. I don't think a simple _wolf _could harm Rumia permanently." Louise answered disinterestedly.

Osmond frowned at the lack of concern, but moved along, supposing that Louise simply had faith in her familiar's barbarian woodsmanship.

"In any case, the academy only requires three thousand new gold to effect the repairs of the walls and replanting of trees, which leaves fourteen thousand of the bounty unclaimed. It is of course correct to say that you both played critical parts in bringing the criminal to justice, so... I suppose an equal division of the remainder would be acceptable to you both?"

Tabitha seemed agreeable, and Louise simply didn't care. She'd have happily passed it all over to Tabitha if it would get her out of the office even a moment sooner. Osmond's pleasantries drew to a close as he dismissed them and, with a bow, Louise turned to limp out to the hallways, thighs burning from the scrapes and abrasions that had been left by dragon scales. 'Not worth the effort to use magic to fix', had been the diagnosis, though she'd apparently cracked three ribs in the bargain and those had been, though only just.

It was still irritating enough that she'd had to stop only a few hallways down, and lean against a wall to breath heavily before waving a maid over to help her to her room. It was Siesta again, if she was remembering the name right. She really had to speak with the headmaster about simply buying out the maid's contract at this rate, it wasn't like she had much of anything planned for the piles and piles of gold she suddenly had lying about.

The maid fussed about, tidying the room as Louise tried to begin applying a simple healing salve. Tried, because the first contact was a sort of unexpected horrific agony, both hot and cold fires stabbing at the point of contact and _it was supposed to have a numbing agent, why wasn't that kicking in, she wanted it numb _and the end result had her lying prone, miserable, having only been able to dab at things slightly before having wrenched her hand away.

"... I suppose you'd rather have me do that?" Siesta asked awkwardly.

"P-please." Louise replied, embarrassed but without the slightest idea of how she'd manage to spread it all herself without having to stay up the whole night to do it.

"... You're, um. Bruised, milady. Heavily." Siesta spoke up after a long moment of awkward silence, jar of salve in one hand.

_"Yes, I am aware of this."_ Louise hissed slowly, trying to pretend she was in anything but the current situation. "Just... get on with it already, would you?"

Siesta sighed deeply before dipping her fingers in the jar, sliding out a bit of salve and then reaching down to carefully and thoroughly rub it where it was needed. Louise's hands clenched into fists around her bedding, and she grit her teeth in a desperate attempt to ignore the burning chill and to not whimper at the way her legs were reflexively spasming out of control under the maid's ministrations.

Then the door swung open, and Louise turned wide, watery, horrified eyes in its direction.

"... Is this a bad time?" Kirche asked, eyebrows rapidly climbing at the tableau before her.

"... Ugh." Louise groaned. "Of course this wasn't already humiliating enough already. Hurry up and put the rest of the s-_aaa_" Louise's eyes crossed as Siesta dabbed the next bit, and she continued in a smaller voice. "... salve on. Hey. No. You stay over there, Zerbst, you don't have permission!" She continued, as the taller girl leaned a little, craning her neck to try to get a better view of what was going on.

"Ah... sorry." The germanian replied, tone of voice indicating that she wasn't actually sorry in any way.

"Tch. Whatever... if you've come just to say something to my face instead of behind my back, then spit it out and leave, I don't feel like dealing with it just now." Louise instructed crossly, as Siesta awkwardly wiped away the traces of salve remaining from her hand and re-sealed the container.

"That's not..." Kirche began, more hesitant than Louise had ever seen the other girl, but she trailed off after a moment. "It's just... Tabitha seems to be getting closer to you, faster than she ever did with me, and... I mean, I saw a lot of that thing with the golem out there. It was pretty impressive, and..."

Kirche paused and shook her head.

"Ah... I don't even _know _why I'm here. Just... nevermind." she finished, hastily backing out the door before Louise thought to stop her.

"... I believe she was trying to apologize, milady." Siesta noted idly.

"What, her... I'll believe that when it happens." Was all Louise had to say on the matter, to Siesta's idle shrug.

The maid stood, bowed slightly, and opened the door to leave. After a long moment, she began to very slowly and carefully walk backwards, across the room, as a damp nose and a great furry muzzle full of teeth poked through the opening, a wolf at the very least the size of a horse, possibly larger, wedged its way through the door, tongue lolling out of its mouth as it inspected them with hungry eyes.

"Heeeey~" Rumia called as she floated in through its feet, prompting the beast to subtly flinch away from the little ball of darkness. "Look what I found!"

"... I noticed." Was all Louise could manage to think of to say as she stood, shifting awkwardly as she slowly slid her wand out. "I would have thought you'd have eaten it by now."

"I was gonna, but it was interesting!" Rumia declared. "I didn't know they got so big, if they didn't get eaten or change."

"Usually they don't." Louise confirmed, even as she thought about what to do.

Animals could detect fear. She wasn't as good at handling them as her sister, but she'd picked up enough to know that. And at the moment she was drained enough that she wasn't sure she _could _be genuinely afraid, even if the wolf suddenly went to the attack. Siesta, on the other hand, was radiating waves of terror so powerful that Louise imagined _she _could feel them, and indeed the wolf seemed to be looking past her, trying to figure out if there was a way to go around. She locked gazes with it, knowing full well that she could blast it into a mess if she were so inclined, refusing to budge ground.

Several long moments passed before the wolf lowered its head, emitting a high-pitched, confused whine as it shuffled slightly back.

"Thank you, Rumia." Louise said calmly. "Help me chain it to a tree near the kitchens, I'll decide what to do with it later, and in the meantime it can be kept fairly docile with scrap meats."

"Aw, I can't eat it?" Rumia asked, pout very nearly audible.

"Maybe." Louise replied noncomittally. "If I can't think of any use for it."


	9. Chapter 9

Louise wasn't entirely sure how Rumia had managed it any more than Longueville had managed to slip her golem in, but Rumia had somehow gotten the wolf all the way to her room completely unnoticed by the eyes of staff, servant, or student. In light of that, she couldn't help but feel her faith in the Academy's security measures... dwindle, just a little. In any case, when it was revealed, there was a brief period of chaos, followed by an uneasy calm when it was revealed the Louise could keep it in line with soft, dangerous words, a steady glare, and, at one point, a solid belt to the nose when it seemed to be getting ready to pounce on someone. That last had startled and confused the beast more than it had inflicted any actual injury, but Louise's continued failure to show even the most subtle whiff of fear in the face of the wolf's fangs was sending it all manner of mixed, unnerving messages. This was not, after all, the way things should have gone, by its limited understanding.

An earth mage had quickly stepped in to build an enclosure to keep the wolf penned, rather than simply chain it up and risk it getting loose. Aside from a quick false start, in which the mage in question demonstrated a complete lack of any sort of familiarity with animals by setting up an area less than a quarter of the size that would keep the wolf satisfied, from which it almost wouldn't be able to avoid trying to escape, it worked out rather well, and Louise made arrangements for the kitchen servants to throw meat scraps in every so often.

That had all turned out better than she'd expected, when the wolf first poked its head in, and she'd gone to sleep satisfied. Then, morning came, followed by breakfast, which brought things rather nicely up to the present.

"Pardon, what?" She said dryly, upon hearing the suggestion Osmond had called her to his office to deliver.

"As I said, with no other leads, I'm returning to my previous hypothesis, and I've arranged for another test to come this evening. I would suggest, however, that you buy the girl a suitable weapon beforehand."

"... You simply will not give up on this Gandalfr notion, will you." Louise groaned in a sort of vague disbelief. After a moment, she shook her head and held out a hand.

"... Pardon?" Osmond asked, confused.

"This is your experiment, to confirm or disprove your own theory, yes?" Louise said, grin laced with a slight, soft chill. "So then... even if I'm willing to go out of my way to run an errand I hadn't planned, it's only sensible that you be the one to pay for the materials that will be used. Isn't that right?"

"Ohohoho... now, let's not be so hasty." Osmond chuckled. "I've no use for a sword, so you and your familiar will be retaining possession of it following the conclusion of the latest test. Besides, this should be a wonderful bonding experience for you two young girls, a shopping expedition. You'll likely come to know and understand each other much better in the process, you know."

"Girl's days out don't often involve edged metal or armor, and the only shop I think Rumia may be interested in is the meat markets." Louise countered. "And it doesn't explain why I should pay, to test your theories."

"It's the way of the world, my dear. Regardless, though, the Academy's coffers are a touch light at the moment, what with the recent... renovations. Perhaps you should simply consider it a kindly master giving a gift to her loyal familiar?"

"Then you're simply ordering me to go buy something." Louise concluded flatly.

"Oh dear, no, I wouldn't dream of that. I will strongly advise it, however, as well as say that you might find it to be in your own best interests, and I'm sure there's any number of useful purposes to which the tool might be put."

"I'm fairly sure Rumia isn't entirely clear on the concepts of 'tools' or 'weapons' to begin with." Louise grumbled, but returned her hand to her side. "Fine, then. I'll go do that."

"Do be back by evening, miss Louise!" Osmond called after her, as she bowed shortly and stalked out of the room. "The test is scheduled for shortly before sundown."

Louise seethed quietly, and was slow to cool as she stepped out of the building, headed for the stables. Then she paused, glancing over to the penned enclosure, where the gargantuan wolf was napping... then shook her head. Perhaps another time.

Her foul mood had not entirely left as she made it to town, and she quickly located the most run down weapons shop she could locate. Osmond had never specified that she needed to waste money on something _good_, after all.

"... Now, see here, we run a respectable business." The merchant began when she entered, and he realized he was in the presence of nobility. "Nothing at all untoward going on here, though you're welcome to inspect for yourself, your ladyship."

"Not interested." She answered immediately. "I want a... sword."

At that, the shopkeep's face brightened up considerably.

"Ah, so that's the case then, should have guessed m'self. As it so happens, I have a lovely piece just in today from the finest steelsmiths and craftsmen in Germania. For you, milady, a bargain at no more than three thous-"

"Not interested." She cut him off instantly, headache beginning to brew at the sales pitch. "What can I find in here for ten gold?"

"You can find the door right back out onto the street is what." The merchant snipped, seeming vexed that he wasn't going to be able to push an overpriced lump of metal she hadn't wanted in the first place off onto the noble. "... I'll let you rummage about in the bargain items for a bit 'til you come to your senses though. Milady." He hastened to finish, though it somehow came out seeming less respectful than if he'd left the title off entirely."

Louise nearly snapped at him, but a deep breath convinced her that it probably wasn't worth it just to vent her spleen, as she had the sneaking suspicion that he could and would retaliate against her purse for it. Instead, she focused her attention on the weapons in the barrel he'd waved at.

... This one was rusted clear through. She was wary of even picking it up, for fear it would fall apart into metal splinters. This one's blade was heavily dented, to the point that she could only guess it would take days of work with a whetstone to get something even vaguely resembling a decent edge on it. This one was bent entirely, the blade closing on making a right angle with the hilt...

"What's wrong with this garbage?" She snapped.

"It's the bargain bin, milady." The shopkeep answered dryly. "If it's in there, it's for a reason. Nothing that can't be made like new again with a visit to the blacksmith's, of course..."

"... But the cost of repair will likely be considerable." Louise finished for him, and he shrugged apathetically. She returned to looking through the barrel, and after a moment pried a sword free.

"... Looks like this one isn't falling apart. Rusty, but not eaten through, no really obvious dents, bends, or cracks... dare I ask what's wrong with it?"

"... Oh, that one." The merchant answered, a clear look of distaste crawling over his features. "Give it a swing and find out for yourself."

Louise was hesitant to actually follow this instruction, but after a moment took the blade by the handle and swung it in a clear arc through the air.

"Your grip is _terrible_." A disgruntled voice called out from the sword itself, and she nearly hurled it away. "Weak, limp wristed... you're holding me all wrong. Hit anything with me like that, and It'll send a shockwave up your arm and you'll drop me. Have you ever even _watched _someone actually competent train or fight, girl?"

"Somehow, I understand perfectly what you meant." Louise said to the shopkeep. "... How much?"

"Hrm... now, I really want to get rid of the thing, you understand, but it does hold some value as a curiosity. For you, my lady, one hundred new gold."

"Never mind then, I'll get a lump of pig-iron beaten into the right general shape at the blacksmith's." Louise decided, turning to replace the mouthy sword.

"Ah, perhaps I was slightly hasty in my appraisal." The shopkeep quickly continued. "What I meant was, of course, a mere eighty gold, with my compliments."

"... Twenty." Louise counter-offered.

In the end, she paid around fifty gold for the sword, along with a promise to _never, ever_ bring it back to pawn, and neither she nor the merchant were terribly happy about the compromise, but they were, at very least, satisfied.

"So." The sword asked, as she stopped at a small tavern to eat something. The common fare wasn't exactly thrilling to the palate... it was, however, filling. "What exactly is a mage-whelp like yourself interested in a sword for?"

"The Headmaster's ridiculous theories." Louise answered around a mouthful of food, not obliged to show much in the way of decorum when there were only commoners and a sword around to see. "He thinks my familiar is some sort of legend. So far, though, his tests have been the opposite of solid proof for it."

"Legend, huh... Oh! You mean Gandalfr?"

"That's what he thinks, yes." Louise admitted, between mouthfuls of some sour fruit nectar. "I have my doubts."

"Well, shouldn't be hard to find out." The sword said practically. "Give them a weapon they've never used before and throw them into a fight. It'll be pretty obvious after a couple minutes. If they're not, though, they might die."

"After it spectactularly failed to learn knife work at a touch, I suspect that's the plan."

"Hm... not at all worried about your familiar?"

"Bah. As though a little think like being carved up with swords would kill it." Louise answered disinterestedly, dipping bread in broth to soften it up enough to chew. "... Not looking forward to the ride back, though."

"Not a good rider?"

"Less that, and more that I'm still a mass of cuts and bruises from the other day." She grumbled. "The salve helped, but that familiar of Tabitha's has scales edged like knives... some of those cuts were too deep for comfort. And with having fallen onto it from the wall..."

"Sounds like there's a story behind that." The sword said, interestedly. "You'll have to tell me sometime."

"Maybe later." Louise said, rising slowly and leaving a scattering of small coins by her utensils to pay for the meal. She strapped the talking sword to her back before she left.

Rumia wasn't any more pleased about the test than Louise had been, when she returned to the Academy grounds and things were arranged.

"I can't kill him?" She asked morosely, as the leather-clad man stretched in place, drawing a rapier with deliberate casualness.

"Not a good idea, he's apparently the Headmaster's friend's servant." Louise answered quietly, before handing the sword over. "Finish this pointlessness quick... but try not to hurt him too badly."

"Are you prepared, girl?" The man called out.

Rumia just shrugged, and the man sighed, then lunged forward, thrusting at almost a blinding speed, tip of the thin blade blurring as it stabbed forth, piercing Rumia's shoulder. The man didn't so much as have time to frown and step back, or explain that he'd been fairly convinced by Osmond's theories, and had simply assumed that she would dodge or parry the blow with ease, before Rumia had already retaliated. The sword in her hand sliced through hardened leather and flesh alike, and nicked against bone, scoring the man's ribcage heavily as he fell back in some surprise, clutching at the gaping wound.

"Medic!" Louise called, having thought to have one at hand in advance for just this reason.

"... Hm." Osmond said, stroking his beard in thought. "I suppose these results could be called... inconclusive?"

"Let me get a second opinion." Louise said dryly. "Sword?"

"I didn't think it was _possible _for someone to have a worse grip than you do." The sword complained loudly, before Osmond had the chance to voice his confusion. "Hand position is awkward, swing is bad, foot placement is all wrong, she got less than half what she could have out of that swing. She could have cleaved the man in two if she was a step closer, but that's more due to her unnatural physical strength. Aside from that, she's definitely in the top ten worst swordsmen I've ever been used by. At least number four. You're number thirteen, by comparison, whelp."

"I see." Louise said simply, then turned her head and called to the healer. "Be sure to look for rust poisoning, I haven't had the chance to have this fixed up yet."

"Anyway, if she _is _the Gandalfr, then there's something horribly wrong." The sword continued. " You'd be better off with just getting her a big slab of metal and bolting a handle onto it than a real sword, at this point."

"Hm..." Osmond mumbled thoughtfully, mind running over the fight, if it could be reasonably called such a thing. Yes, he was sure of it. There _had _been a faint glimmer in the girl's shadows. He'd only barely been able to pick it out, but it had been there.

"If we're done here, I do have plans." Louise said simply, and Osmond nodded and wandered back to his office, still deep in thought. Certainly, those plans were simply to sit in a tub of ice water and re-apply that healing salve, but that was irrelevant. Rumia had dropped the sword in disinterest at some point, clearly uncaring as to whether it could talk or not, and wandered off in the direction of the forest, doubtless to reduce the local wildlife population stil further. She grudgingly picked it up and shook it gingerly, blood dripping from the tip.

"Hey, be sure to wipe this off before you sheathe me, girl, or it'll come off and dry onto the inside of the scabbard, and then you'll never get the smell out." The sword helpfully advised.

"Ugh. Noted. I'll see if I can find a servant who knows about maintaining blades to get you back in order."

"Hey, that'd be great. It's been a long time since I've had a good polishing..."


	10. Chapter 10

Louise had decided to skip the festival, and its showcasing of the student's prize familiars.

"... There's something you said, earlier. I didn't think about it at the time, but it's been nagging at me..."

"Hm... is that so?" Rumia said, without much interest, floating upside down outside the window, skirt defying gravity as she stared at the moons.

"Yes." Louise answered simply. "It was about the wolf... it didn't strike me as odd, until I'd stopped to think about it. You said that you didn't know they could grow so big, because before they could something would eat them... or they would 'change'."

"Did I say that?" Rumia mused. "... I can't remember."

"Some sort of predation could account for the first part, but..." Louise continued, having begun to stare at the moons herself, unable to shake the curiosity about what, exactly, it was that her familiar found so captivating in them. "... The second, I don't understand. They begin their lives as wolves... and then, some become... something else?"

"Yes." Rumia answered scornfully. "Any kid knows that much."

"I _don't_." Louise insisted, trying to get across that she might, just possibly, not know every detail of what might be considered 'common knowledge' from wherever her familiar had originated. Rumia blinked slowly in response.

"... Oh." She said simply. "Hm... really? That's weird. But yeah. If an animal gets old enough, or smart enough, or strong enough, or scary enough, then it stops being just an animal. It becomes Youkai." Rumia said simply. "Just like things can change, if they've been around long enough."

"Youkai..." Louise mumbled, thinking to herself. "What is..."

She broke off as, suddenly, the shadows of the night deepened subtly, and Rumia's eyes were directly in front of hers, set in an upside-down face and glowing like coals.

"Humans can do it too." She said seriously, with the first glimmer of interest she'd shown for the whole conversation. "Not all of them. Boring, dull, normal humans have no chance. They have to be interesting. Magic helps."

"Does it...?" Louise asked, uncertain of where this conversation had turned, as Rumia floated back a bit.

"I heard it from a firefly, who heard it from the witch and magician of the magic forest~" She confided slyly. "A human that studies magic... they can find a way to change, just because they want to. It seems like none of them do it the same way, though."

Louise wasn't quite sure what to make of that statement. An _insect _had told her something, and she considered it reliable inf... ah.

"This firefly... it had become a Youkai."

"Smaaa~aart~" Rumia giggled, before floating away, interest in the conversation having likewise drifted off, and quickly moving out of vocal range despite her seeming lazy speed.

Louise still didn't even know what a 'Youkai' was... getting any significant quantity of pertinent information from Rumia was like catching hold of a cat's tongue. Well, there would be other nights, she reflected, still watching the moons move slowly through the sky.

There was a tapping at her door. A quiet knock, requesting entry to her sanctum. She opened the door, and was greeted by a hooded figure, who didn't hesitate before sweeping her into gentle arms. She would later be very grateful she had no weapon to hand, and that her wand-arm was pinned in the gesture of affection, for while she would never admit it to anyone, and even deny it to herself, while her first, initial reaction in the few moments before the intruder's identity was revealed was to panic... her second was to seek out a way she could _attack_.

"I missed you at the celebration." A soft voice spoke, and her eyes widened as the person stepped back, lowering their hood.

"Highness..."

"Please. My dearest Louise..." the princess, Henrietta, demurred. "We are friends since childhood, are we not? If there are any who could call me by name, it would be you."

"... I am honored." Louise whispered, through a dry mouth, trying to forget that she had only just imagined three seperate ways she might escape her old friend's grip, and what she would have continued on to do if she had. "Please, enter. Forgive me. I have not, of late, been in a particularly festive mood..."

"You bury yourself still in study, to the detriment of your social life?" The princess teased, only for it to fall flat as Louise averted her eyes. "I jest, of course. I meant no... I have heard tell of your recent woes... and your recent deeds. In private parlors and secluded dining halls, it seems you've cast off the appelation of Zero... those with a taste for gossip now know you by different names. The Crimson. The Hunter. ... The Scattered Blood."

"In truth..." Louise replied somberly. "I may have preferred my previous moniker, object of scorn though it was intended to be."

"Ah. And is it all so terrible, my dear Louise? You have lived on your own merits. Noble strangers now speak of you with a sense of respect, where before was only derision. You are a Chevalier..."

"That is yet to be decided." Louise countered. "I have merited an appraisal, with a recommendation. There has of yet been no debate or conclusion drawn regarding-"

"You _will be_ a Chevalier." Henrietta interrupted, a sense of firm finality to her words. "I can think of none who deserve it more. If needs be, I shall personally assure it."

"There... there is no need to go so far on my behalf, Highness... my lady Henrietta..." Louise amended at the princess' stern look. "... And I fear you have tipped your hand early, in so promising. You have not come tonight simply to speak of childhood capers and reminisce as the hours pass."

"Ah... and where has gone my precious Louise, who was so easy to rile, and so simple to placate, who could not grasp speech that was not forthright and honest in its entirety?" Henrietta mused wryly.

"She grew older, and, one hopes, a trifle wiser." was the only reply Louise could give.

"So cold, my Louise..."

"Door!" the sword barked, having sat quietly until then. Henrietta started at the sudden noise, but Louise had already surged into motion, hurling herself out of the chair and to the entry, wand already in hand as she flung the door open, lifting it... and ground to a halt, tip only inches away from the face of a suddenly flinching classmate.

"... Guiche de Gramont." She rasped, then shook her head. "Give me a reason. Any reason, to not execute you for _spying _on the private conversations of your princess." She continued, hoping that any amount, even a fragment, of the desperation she held for him to actually _have _a reason was seeping through.

"I did not _know _it was her Majesty." Guiche replied quickly, eyes focused precisely on the tip of Louise's wand. "I spied her first from a distance, and saw only a lovely flower wandering these dark and empty corridors, and could not help but follow. I had taken her only, at most, to be a lost handmaiden, and by the time I drew nearer she had already arrived here. ... Following that, my curiosity grew too strong for me to contain, and for that I can only throw myself upon the mercy of yourself and her Highness, and pray you can forgive my moment of weakness and lapse of sound judgement."

"... It sounds a likely enough tale." Louise admitted, relief filling her as she did so. She did not remember to lower the wand, however, until Henrietta's giggle caught her atention

"Ah... my dear Loiuse, you've quite terrified the poor young man, do put your wand away. De Gramont? You would be the son, then, of General Gramont..."

"Indeed, it is as you say, Majesty..."

"You need not be _quite _so formal, good sir, I am not _yet _Queen. 'Highness' will, I believe, suffice. Though... indeed. You may prove to be of some use in this matter, and thusly earn the forgiveness you seek."

"Order me, Highness, and I will fulfill any task, or perish in the attempt." Guiche vowed, kneeling partly from a sense of respect and sincerity, and partly because his legs were still weak from the panic which came when one had the business end of Louise's wand anywhere near their head.

"Indeed. Now... it is not yet public knowledge, but I am due to be wed to a Prince of Germania. Ah, do not frown so, my Louise... I know well your opinion of the country, and its citizens, commoner and nobility alike. You may count yourself assured that I would not have been agreeable were it not a political necessity, and that it will be a powerful match. Even so... there is one small matter that must be dealt with, with the utmost of discretion. A trifle... yet with the potential for significant embarassment should it come to light. A single letter, currently in the keeping of prince Wales of Albion..."


	11. Chapter 11

"Your feet are in the wrong place. Put a good handspan more's room between them." The instruction came. "Your grip is still wrong, by the way. Upper hand's okay enough for a beginner, but the lower's far too loose, and you need to shift the position a little further down the hilt. Little more. No, now the top one's too loose... there you have it, nice firm grip, little chance of your hands sliding off now. Your muscle tone is terrible, but we can work through that. Just hold me in place for now. You'll start to feel it pretty soon, but keep at it, and if you drop me I won't talk to you for weeks."

"And what a _terrible _loss that would be." Louise groaned as she held the mouthy sword in position. It wasn't particularly heavy, even, but it was right- it was only a short time before she felt her shoulders ache and her arms begin to burn from the effort involved in holding the blade in a ready position. As minutes passed, the tip would, from time to time, begin to dip lower before she caught herself and moved back into position, growling softly to herself.

"Why haven't we headed off yet, by the way? Seemed like that issue the princess brought up was pretty urgent." The sword mused to itself as she sweated.

"It's also... a _clandestine _matter." Louise panted. "Officially... I've recieved correspondence from home... on an important matter that has suddenly come up... and I shall be removing myself from the academy... for a brief period, to set it in order. Unofficially... Headmaster Osmond is very understanding... about assignments that must not become public knowledge. We... will leave in the early afternoon."

All it had really taken in that regard was a quick showing of the ring Henrietta had lent her, and Osmond had been more than willing to comply, even with the particular details of what she would be doing un-spoken and un-asked.

"And that other fellow...?"

"Guiche...? Is currently under accusations from one of his family's servants... of impregnation." Louise said smugly. "Just plausible enough a story to pass... especially as there is no such impregnated servant... and when he returns he will be proud to say that she was some low-life... gold-hunting commoner, hoping to trick her way into a noble family. Nobody will be surprised... that such a matter is being dealt with discreetly."

"Hm, clever... Oh, too much longer and your arms are going to start to tremble, and then it won't be too much longer before they give out entirely, so this should be enough for now." The sword said.

Louise gasped as she set the sword back down gently, fingers aching as she forced them to bend and unbend, teasing away the stiffness. There was just enough time for a proper bath before lunch, after which she would be off to town. With luck, nobody would notice when she left it, or that when she did she would be headed in the wrong direction.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

This place wasn't like the forest.

There weren't enough trees to offer proper shade, and there were too many two-legged things wandering about for it to feel comfortable with all the not-pack not-prey. The stink of their fear of it had ebbed, given time, and now even were there opportunity it was uncertain that it could muster up the inclination to chase one if the opportunity arose and it fled.

On the other side of things, food was regularly provided, and though it regretted the lack of the hunt, chase, kill, it could not deny that this was... _convenient_, and left it more time to simply laze about in the times it was not eating, where before it would spend all its time either hunting something or searching out something to hunt, were it not asleep from the effort of the day.

The strange two-legged thing concerned it, though.

From the beginning, it had not shown even a trace of fear in its presence. Not so much as wary hesitation, and that alone...

It was not afraid of the two legs. But it could be wary.

And it was, indeed, wary, as the strange one approached it. Even now, without an iota of trepidation.

It could attack. It could always attack, lunging forward and burying fangs into soft, sweet, warm flesh. It had to know that it could attack, though. It knew, and yet it still did not display any fear, and this _concerned_ it. Just as the soft knock to its tender nose, after a low growl and recalling a mother's annoyed nips to keep too playful young in line _concerned_ it.

It was not afraid of the two legs.

But perhaps it would not attack, either.

"There's a good wolf." Louise said, as the beast assumed a position approximating something like submission.

"Not sure this is a good idea..." The sword rattled, strapped to her back as she unfortunately discovered she didn't have quite enough stature to unsheathe such a blade from her hip.

"Your concerns are noted." Louise replied, dismissing them without verbally admitting to it.

"I mean, subterfuge, this is supposed to be a quiet thing, right? Big furry brute like this..."

"My sister is a known... animal enthusiast, I suppose would be the term? She has an extensive menagerie. Bringing an odd beast along for her inspection, when it's widely known I am venturing thenceward already, will arouse no suspicion. In addition, I will require some form of mount as I do not intend to _walk_ the entire distance, I suspect the wolf will be superior to a normal horse in traversing shortcuts through the forest, as Guiche has already departed and will likely be vexed should he have to await me at the meeting place overlong. If I bring it, I cannot bring a horse, as the animals spook when it is too near, and _its fur is thick and soft_." She finishes, a little petulantly. "My little wounds are nearly healed, but they will much prefer riding what feels to be more a mass of soft pillows than hardened leather."

"Alright, alright. No place for saddlebags or anything, though."

"I carry a full purse of gold and my wand. It is all I'll require. Rumia will follow by the air, unfortunately visible as her general cloak of darkness is, with any luck if she keeps low toward the tree tops and moves quickly she will go unnoticed..."

Without further word, Louise seats herself on the wolf's back, taking a moment to savor it. It _is_ something like soft pillows. The wolf, however, does not seem immediately amenable to getting up and loping in the direction she wants to go.

It takes another moment or two before she lets off a low growl of her own.

"... Beast. You face a choice. You will serve as a _mount_, or I will have you as a _rug_." She says, voice slowly lowering to a dangerous quality.

The wolf doesn't show any indication of understanding her none too subtle threat, but after a moment it heaves itself up to its feet and pads out of the open enclosure.

There are some further false starts after this, of course, but it is not too terribly long before Loise finds herself having properly left the campus, and having sort of met an understanding with the wolf about things that would make it, grudgingly, turn in the direction she wanted to go, and things that would make it yelp in sharp annoyance and try a quick motion to throw her off and snap at her that had to be met with knocking the sword against its head.

Derflinger watched. Sort of. In the sense that he had no eyes with which to see, in any case, any more than he had any traits that would identify him as 'male' beyond some deliberately chosen quirks of voice and speech.

He was a sword, after all. When it came down to it, he was most of the time remarkably devoid of the presence any sort of organ, sensory or otherwise. The rest of the time is entirely beside the point.

He had a name, though. Obviously. He just wasn't really sure he wanted to give it out, just yet.

The familiar-thing 'felt' wrong. Sort of like the Gandalfr, and of everything in the world, he should _know_ what it felt like to be held by the Gandalfr. Which was itself the quandary. There shouldn't be any 'sort of' about it. You either were the Gandalfr, or you were not, and there wasn't any wishy-washy, half-hearted uncertainty involved in the matter.

And yet, there she was. And she felt like she _could_, sort of, be the Gandalfr. But again, as he'd said to the old man, if she was, then something was horribly wrong indeed.

There was the other girl, of course. The one who insisted that whatever her familiar was, it wasn't a legendary familiar of ancient times. That would require, among other things, for her to be a legendary void mage, after all, which was clearly impossible.

Well, Derflinger didn't know about that. She definitely 'tasted', if such a description was apt, like a void mage. Prolonged exposure to her had all but cemented that conclusion. He was pretty sure she was one, and again, this was something he had a great deal of experience in. He could _tell_ these things.

He just wasn't sure that he would be able to convince her of it, if he came out and said so, rather than getting, just for example, tossed down a well. Which had been a particularly damp and miserable assortment of decades, before the bucket had managed to catch enough on him to drag him back out again.

In any case, it might be better that words like 'Void Mage' and 'Legendary Gandalfr' didn't get trotted out all over the place, come to think of it. After all, he'd had some experience with both, beyond, even, the originals.

Of very recently, he'd begun sifting through faint memories, to compare the endings to such excursions, and was beginning to realize that there was an alarming majority of cases where, when it all came down to it, people calling themselves such things ended up being stripped of their wands and weapons, drugged to the point they couldn't fight or cast anything, and burned at the stake for heresy. Barring unfortunate well incidents.

In the end though, he was just a tool. It wasn't really his place to decide on things, just to fill a specific, and often final, purpose. It didn't mean that he wasn't allowed to think, of course, but...

Well, for now, perhaps he would just keep quiet about the whole matter.

It wasn't as if anyone had _asked_ him any important questions about this sort of thing, after all.

When all was said and done, it wasn't as though Louise needed to have been worried about keeping Guiche waiting. Quite the reverse.

When he did arrive, it was nearly an hour after the appointed meeting time, in a fancy horse-drawn carriage. Had she not had Rumia, who had had plenty of time to catch up in the interim, hunt the forests, and drag back a still-struggling deer for the wolf's consumption, she suspected that the horses would have not just been mightily alarmed at its presence nearby, but bolted and been run down by it.

He was not alone.

"Guiche de Gramont." Louise said, very slowly, as he stepped out of the carriage, dabbing carefully at the corner of his mouth with a kerchief. "You brought _servants_?"

"A pair, of course." He replied, seeming astonished that she would question this. "It simply would not do to travel without proper comfort. Unseemly. People would talk."

"More than they will _already_ talk, about your being called to task over a certain gold-sniffing commoner?" Louise questioned, careful to keep pretences up. "There are certain words, Guiche de Gramont, and I am no longer quite certain you are entirely clear upon their meaning. Shall I lend you a _dictionary_?"

"Please! There is no cause for alarm. Jaques and Roguespierre are quite efficient and discreet, they shan't be telling any tales of our business." Guiche countered, laughing off her concern.

"Indeed they shall not, for they will continue on with an empty carriage in the direction of the Gramont estates." Louise snaps, and Guiche is astonished once again.

"Continue on such a trip without servants, without a carriage? Are you quite mad, Valliere? Would you have me _walk_ the entire way?"

"I am _sorely_ tempted to do so..." She begins, then pauses as she notes an amused seeming griffin stepping about from behind the carriage. Her gaze rises.

That of her fiance, the Viscount Wardes, meets it, amusement equal to his own griffin.

"Ah, and more! I was so fortunate as to meet with further assistance from the Princess, upon this endeavor!" Guiche says, cheerily.

_-There is one small matter, which must be dealt with with the utmost of discretion.-_

"This, Louise..." Guiche continues, seeming mildly awed and delighted at the man's presence. "Is none other than the Griffin Knight-"

"Viscount Wardes." Louise interrupts. "We have met."

"Oh, come Louise." Wardes chuckles merrily. "How cold. Is that any fashion in which to greet the man to which you are betrothed?"

"Engaged, truly?" Guiche says with a start. "This is not a recent event? How on earth, I wonder, did you manage to keep from boasting about...?"

_-With the utmost of discretion.-_

"It does not matter. You will forgive me, Viscount, as business such as this... leaves me ill of temper."

"Understandable indeed. The details, of course, should not be discussed in the open, but it is imperative that this letter be retrieved. Milady is most concerned, and has requested I assist in whatever way I can manage."

_-With the utmost of discretion. My dear Louise, I would not bring this to you, but there is none else I might trust so with this matter. With the utmost of discretion.-_

Something deep within her guts is twisting itself in knots, with the subtle sense of wrongness about this situation. A clandestine operation such as this... she hated to admit it, but even aside from trustworthiness, there is a reason she could imagine Henrietta would come to schoolchildren over experienced Knights and mages.

Deniability. If caught, there was no official link to the crown, between herself and a pair of nobodies, a nearly failed mage and a random son of a noble family of no huge political importance. Their deaths would be unpleasant, but there would be no political ramifications, or proof of the crown sticking its nose where it technically didn't belong.

Not so with Viscount Wardes. If caught, he was known enough for unfortunate questions to be asked.

Her paranoia was howling at her, a little sense of dread deep within her gut. Before, she might have dismissed it out of hand. Ignored it.

Because surely, it couldn't be right. Viscount Wardes...

The man was her Fiance, they were _betrothed_. He was a close friend of the family, he might as well _be_ family, and at some point he _would_ be family. Sense of wrongess, that this wasn't right and he shouldn't _be _here aside...

Would Henrietta, the Princess that had come to her in such a fuss and worked up into what was almost a desperate panic, very tightly controlled as it might have been, have really turned around and sent another person along? Much less someone so well known?

Even so, this was _Viscount Wardes_ she was thinking of. How else would he have learned of this matter?

... Espionage?

... Treason against the crown?

That couldn't be right. As well accuse one of her own sisters. As well accuse her own _mother_ of treason.

"Send the carriage along." She ordered, choosing to glower at Guiche rather than focus on her own thoughts. "I am uncertain as to how well my own steed will take to another rider. Still, unless the Viscount would be so kind as to allow you passage upon his griffin, I suppose we will have to discover this for ourselves."

Guiche looks, with some trepidation, upon the wolf. It sniffs the air, and its eyes gleam as it looks right back at him, almost deliberately licking at its long, pointy teeth. He turns instead to the griffin and rider, who stare back with an equal sense of grim amusement at the spectacle.

He lets loose a heartfelt, pitiful groan.

... The Vicount Wardes, a traitor? Pah. Stuff and nonsense. But even though, she finds that she cannot quite banish a last, small seed of wriggling doubt.

_-With the utmost of discretion. I beg of you, Louise, speak of this matter to no-one at all. It must be handled with the utmost of discretion.-_


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Wardes wasn't entirely sure what to make of matters.

"If your fingers should find themselves anywhere improper, Guiche de Gramont, I'll remove them." Little Louise warned, with a sort of stern harshness that was... not _entirely_ unfamiliar to her, he must admit, but at the same time would have fit her mother far better.

Still, he can't say he disapproves, as it turns the trick of making certain that the boy is very, very mindful of what he is and is not touching. He would prefer that he not share Louise's mount at all, but at the same time he isn't willing to force his Griffin into carrying another rider and it doesn't seem like he can yet take enough control of the little mission to simply leave the boy behind somewhere.

Somewhere he would likely make it to safety, even. It wasn't as though he had much against the boy, except that he was currently in the way.

Even so, despite his expectations, little Louise had _not_ gratefully handed over the reigns and all responsibility to him upon his arrival, instead just grumbling and adjusting her sword, _sword_, did little Louise fancy herself a swordswoman now? Well, it had been something of a long shot in any case, and even if he couldn't take charge of everything, simplifying any number of things for his goals, Wardes reflected that he could still act as an experienced advisor.

A hero, even, should the opportunity to save their lives from threats they hadn't imagined would be present, even. He had no doubt that such opportunities would occur. It was _important_ that he have that measure of gratitude and good will to play upon, after all, and so he had gone ahead and made arrangements for them.

Arrangements for Louise, at least. The boy almost doesn't seem to need such swaying, and has already made a few quiet noises about how, really, this was all well and good but in the end they probably weren't really _required_ for something like this, and that the Griffin Knight Wardes was more than capable of handling matters without their assistance, and likely more capable without them there to get in the way.

Which was, he supposed, true, if he was interested in collecting letters for the Princess of Tristain just at the moment. It would be loud, of course, and hardly subtle, as there was little to be done to conceal a Griffin charging through the skies toward its target, but he could collect it and be back in... oh, in a day, most likely, if he pressed his griffin to exhaustion and was willing to risk it collapsing and dying, or leave it to recover for a fortnight or so after the effort if it did not. Of course, by the next day, speculation about why he'd gone charging out on a flight to Albion and back would have spread far and wide, and almost everyone important would know that he had just done _something_, if not what it was, exactly.

No, he had business in Albion, but he had business with little Louise as well, and the best way to deal with both was by subtly linking those two goals together and achieving them both with, if not the same stroke, then nearly so.

The Void, after all, was a powerful draw. It wasn't as though he didn't hold some affection for the girl, either. No, he'd been willing for a marriage even before he'd been informed of her importance by other parties. Now, of course, it was simply critical that arrangements became irrevocable before anyone else discovered it. Power-hungry fools would claw their way from the far corners of the world to bind their futures to that of a Void mage, and he would be a fool, himself, not to realize that Karin would sever their current understanding without hesitation if a suitably impressive enough replacement made themselves available.

He could not afford to let her slip away, now. The Void needed to be in capable hands, to guide it properly.

His hands.

His Void, even if he might not be the one to cast the spells himself, for as long as he was the one giving the commands, and little Louise carried them out as a dutiful wife, the forgotten element was close enough to being his own that little details such as that hardly mattered.

He had, of course, doubted. At least to some level. It was hard, to take an adorable little failure and then try to explain that those failures came from the fact that she was trying to compress, as it were, ten thousand tons of power beyond imagining into a wagon meant only to carry a half ton at the most generous estimates. It had been a rational explanation, and there was certain corroborating evidence, but even so... he had not, before today, been completely convinced, though he had decided to go along with things just in case it _was_ true. After all, if it were, a Void mage... it could, naturally, be construed as treason against the crown. But with leverage like that, it wasn't at all unlikely that the crown might find its way onto his head, and he could hardly commit treason against _himself_...

And then he had seen the familiar.

Not the wolf, nobly savage beast that it might be, and suitable enough for some other mage, were it to be summoned in that capacity. No, the familiar...

He wasn't quite sure what to make of that, either.

Just being in its presence sent finely honed senses of danger into a cacophonic furor. Hairs on the back of his neck rose, and his palms itched to draw... blade or wand, whichever was closer to hand. His skin crawled, every carefully cultivated instinct of self preservation urging him to flee, like a deer having pranced into a field of clover only to find it occupied by a patiently waiting and ancient dragon.

He couldn't quite bring himself to let it out of his range of vision, and subtly as he could, had made sure to never have his back to it for even the briefest moment.

Barbarian magic, they had suggested. Heathen arts, possibly heretical to allude to existing, much less practicing, in any proper and upright country, if anyone cared enough to pursue the matter.

He wasn't sure of that.

But in any case, just looking at it... that space which it claimed, fallen into the darkness of night even in the direct light of the sun, dim form shrouded in a deep fog of blackness, of night, of that empty, shapeless, and formless _void_ between the stars and moons...

It had done more to convince him, somehow, than if it had introduced itself as the Gandalfr and proceeded to defeat someone in a duel with a teaspoon.

Not that this was out of the question. It had, as yet, not bothered to introduce itself at _all_.

Even now, he could imagine it staring fixedly at him from its place in that expanse of night in the day.

He wasn't wrong, of course. Rumia was watching him closely, for a couple of reasons. First, due to a very interesting darkness that seemed to glimmer in his eyes, when none seemed to be watching, affable smile fixed in place as an afterthought. Second, as any predator, she had to size up the new prey and judge whether it were worth the energy that might be expended on it. Ignoring, naturally, that she would not really suffer as a more normal predator might, if prey escaped her maw, and did not actually need to fill her stomach to survive. It wasn't as though she would become sated, either... there wasn't really any extreme on either end, 'Full', or 'Starving to death', though things would very nearly approach one or the other on occasion. In general, there was simply 'more' or 'less' Hungry.

Results were, to this point, inconclusive.

Sir Guiche, she knew, was going to be too much trouble to be worth the reward, given his lovely brass maidens. Louise, the little mistress, was for one reason and another out of the question, and had claimed the wolf, so that was right out as well.

She would probably be upset, come to think of it, if her fiance were to go missing.

But he was a Knight, was he not?

It was expected that he make war in the name of his mistress, that Princess, the title itself making her far beyond the level of effort that was generally acceptable for these matters. But in so doing, he would have made enemies, was that not so? Done things that would inspire others to do horrible things back to him in turn, if they could get away with it.

People would be upset if he just disappeared, one day.

But they wouldn't be _surprised_. That it had been attempted, at least, though they might be surprised that someone had managed it.

And she, Rumia, would certainly not be high on the list of suspects.

This, however, was beginning to veer _dangerously_ close to 'planning', however, and the ribbon sealed in her hair did not hesitate to immediately voice its displeasure with this unfortunate and unwanted trend of _thinking_, and did so at length.

Maybe. Maybe not.

She would have to get back to it later, decide one way or another, Rumia decided as the stink of burned hair faded from around her. There would probably be something to sway things by then anyway.

But for now, the griffin.

Big beast. Sort of like a cat, and sort of like a bird.

... It would probably taste _just_ like chicken~


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

When the group of bandits and mercenaries made their showing, it was almost to be expected, as things had been progressing far too smoothly, and Louise barely had time to mentally note that there was nobody involved spectacular enough to be worth their own bounty for capture before Wardes' spell took the highwaymen off guard, tearing some apart and scattering the rest into retreat.

Rumia eagerly lent her own assistance in running them off, with enough enthusiasm to be somewhat annoying. She found her way back eventually, however.

The rest of the way to the port city was uneventful.

It was in the city itself that matters became problematic.

"The soonest ship to Albion does not take flight until tomorrow morning." Wardes apologized.

"They will make us wait here?" Guiche replied. "This is a matter of urgence. Surely, lord Wardes, if you put a word in the ear of the captain of whichever vessel this might be..."

"You do not in any way grasp the [i]concept[/i] of subtlety, do you." Louise snaps.

"Indeed, while this might be something of a delay, hastening the schedule of even a lesser merchantman will not go unnoticed." Wardes agrees. "For the moment, there is nothing to be done but to wait. Though for the time being... I see you carry a blade, these days. A far cry from what I recall, my little Louise."

"The roads are dangerous, at times." She says, without truly making a reply.

"Indeed? Enough so that your wand is not enough to assure your safety?" Wardes says, a testing note of mild surprise in his voice.

Louise grits her teeth to prevent herself from saying anything that cannot be unsaid.

"I understand that Louise's grades upon the more theoretical aspects of magic are exemplary." Guiche says, eager enough to throw some measure of support behind her when it costs him nothing and recent events have proven the existence of something which might be gained.

"I am not so fortunate in practical aspects. Sadly, I tend to... [i]err[/i]. There are times in which I despair of finding the flaw in my technique." Louise continues for Guiche, frost coloring her tone. "This is not to say that I cannot defend myself. The blade is, in fact, less for my own protection and more to simply warn away those unfortunates who might be warned off by such things. If more blood finds itself on my hands, I prefer it to be from those who knew there would be such risk in advance, and not the desperate hoping to feed themselves on coin collected from what seems to be only a more fortunate, but unarmed, maiden."

It's even sort of true, she realizes, when everything comes down to it. And given the choice, she'd prefer that nobody force her to kill them... it's enough to set Wardes nodding slightly, thoughtfully.

"But do you know how to use it?" He questions, astutely. "I do not recall swordsmanship as a practice known to be one of your hobbies. Is it merely an ornament, then, or do you have an instructor hidden away somewhere?"

Derflinger's handle creaks slightly, clearly feeling some amount of offense at being called an ornament, if only in implication.

"I have found the blade servicable enough."

"Indeed? Let us see. Young sir, you are of the Gramonts, yes? Am I mistaken in the belief that you would have had some lessons in fencing?"

"Ah, a few only." Guiche replies, suddenly looking a little worried. "I fear that my interests found themselves in other fields."

"Good enough, even so. All the better, even, for you both to be rough novices. It would, naturally, be somewhat unfair to test your abilities myself, but simply standing aside and observing... Shall we adjourn to the courtyard, perhaps? You are capable, I trust, of fashioning a blade of your own as an Earth mage?"

"Of course, yes..." Is Guiche's dubious reply.

Louise lags behind, at takes a minute to hiss at the sword strapped to her back.

"No talking... alright?"

"No need to tell me twice." Derflinger grumbles softly. "Wasn't planning on it anyway. You're not half good enough to split your attention like that anyway. If you were the Gandalfr or something, it wouldn't matter, because your body would all but move on your own to do what it needs to whether you were paying it a lot of attention or not, but without that advantage, no question. Good that you thought of it yourself, though."

Louise made a quiet noise that could be taken as agreement, suddenly unwilling to admit that she just didn't want Wardes to know about the sword yet, tiny seed of suspicion still gnawing at her as it was.

The training was exhausting.

From all she could determine of it, however, it was genuine. Wardes was making honest appraisals of both of their abilities, and offering advice throughout that proved very useful... it was just so hard, with him being so forthright and helpful about the matter, to suspect that he might be plotting anything sinister.

But even so, the day crawled on even with Louise soaking sore muscles in the baths, and she found herself less than pleased when rooming arrangements came to light.

"Two rooms might be sufficient, yes." She said, agreeing with the facts without agreeing to how they were laid out. "But it would be most improper for us to share a room, Viscount."

"Indeed, it may be improper, and it would most likely be the case that rooms should be divided according to gender. I have no quarrel with such reasoning." Guiche said. "But even so, it is not the sort of thing that will be too sternly frowned upon. You are engaged to be wed, are you not?"

"We are not married _yet_." Louise said, turning a withering glare that Guiche managed, somehow, to not notice. "What _would_ Mother think."

"What would she think, indeed?" Wardes muses aloud. "But forgive me, I was perhaps too forward. You are correct. It would be most improper for us, yet unwed, to become too close. But I am sure, even at this hour, that a willing priest might be found. Barman, if you would be so kind as to send for...?"

"Ah! This is a happy day indeed." Guiche said, clearly pleased at the turn of events, entirely without any of Louise's cause for suspicion and thus lacking the sudden gnawing uncertainty and dull apprehension she bore.

"This is... it is quite sudden, don't you agree?" She verbally stumbled, trying to find an out.

This wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at _all_. Pointing out matrimonial states was supposed to be her trump for this sort of thing, he wasn't supposed to, to just accept that, and then propose that they move on from an engagement to the next stage of things right _away_.

"What... will mother think, of this? Moving so quickly, and... it can't be a proper ceremony, can it? Not in this small town, without having planned matters and sent invitations..."

"Indeed, I fear we shall have to forego a gala and feast." Is Wardes' reply. "But in fact, the only requirement for a marriage is that it be overseen by an ordained priest, and the rest is mere pomp and ceremony. Fret not, my little Louise, for it will be made right another time. A fine reception will be held, for all the nobles of the land to witness our union, there shall be a revel like none other, and the peasants shall feast themselves fit to burst. For now, though, I find that I cannot bring myself to sleep with you other than in my arms, and yet you are right. We must keep matters proper. Offical. And for that, we must be wed."

Guiche nods in approval of the logic, and Louise can barely keep herself from snarling at the fop. So happy to pander to the whims of the distinguished knight? If asked, would he himself bend over for the honor of the Viscount's attention?

She may, of course, be overthinking things.

What proof is there, after all, that Wardes is _not_ here at the Princess' direction? That he is _not_ supposed to be here? Aside from that niggling seed of doubt, which cannot quite be removed?

If it were not for that doubt, would she be hesitating?

If it were not for that doubt, she would not be uncertain.

Wardes is not unattractive. Louise had harbored some level of infatuation for the man for some time, and it doubtless played some part in the arrangement for their engagement. She would have been _pleased_ to push for a swift wedding, had he requested it. She would have been happy. She's already of an age where marriage is acceptable, and it isn't as though there weren't whispers that she would soon be withdrawn from study to be discreetly wed off or sent to a nunnery.

It was not, after all, said a petty, spiteful, and self-loating corner of her mind, as though a failure of a mage had so many prospects that they could afford to pick and choose when opportunity so handsomely fell into their lap. Not even a proper runic title, even the ritual she had privately performed, perhaps a little illicitly as that, also, was a matter of some level of tradition, out of the sight of her peers, had refused to cooperate. As though it had already heard, in advance, the mocking title and was prepared to make it so in truth. 'Zero'. A number that wasn't a number, an empty place holder, the most direct translation of the rune that had shown itself to her.

She had never told anyone of it, and done her best to bury the memory of performing the ritual at all.

And more still, her Mother approved of Viscount Wardes. She would not have agreed to the engagement at all if she did not. They had met during the glory days of the Heavy Wind,

There was no reason to say no.

No reason aside from that single, gnawing seed of doubt, and even so...

"I don't like how that guy's pushing this." The sword whispered, voice carefully restrained to travel the scant hands distance to her ear and no further. "You can run. Not surprising for a bride to panic from jitters, even with a wedding planned months in advance. There's a window behind us, not four steps away. You can be out through there in an eyeblink, before they've caught on you've panicked."

Even so...

If nothing is wrong, then there is no reason to say no.

And so, if something _is_ wrong, then she cannot _afford_ to say no.

Viscount Wardes did not earn a knighthood through a handsome appearance and fine livery. If that seed of doubt has the right of it, and there is anything at all that is not just as it seems, then she cannot _afford_ to let the man know that she has caught on, that she suspects something might not be quite right.

If Viscount Wardes is a traitor, then there is no way to know what his plot might be, and the only way it could be foiled is by the most complete sort of surprise. Louise finds that she has no delusions whatsoever as to what the outcome of a fair, honest battle between equals would be, between the two of them.

The priest is standing hesitantly in the door, uncertain as to whether he should enter or not.

Louise forces herself to smile.

"Are you happy?"

Louise, submerged to her chin in steaming water, isn't sure what kind of a question _that_ is, from her familiar, floating as to give the appearance of leaning back against the ceiling.

"What?"

"Are you happy?" It asks again, tilting its head to the side curiously. "That sort of thing. It's supposed to make humans happy, right?"

"... Marriage?" Louise ventures, still uncertain as to what her familiar is referring to. A shrug is her only response, and she finds herself staring at the ceiling for more than a few long moments.

"No." She says, finally. "I'm not happy."

"Did he do it wrong?" The next question comes, followed swiftly by "Should we kill him, for messing it up?"

... Louise finds herself a little horrified to discover that she is giving the suggestion very serious thought, despite that even now she is uncertain that any evidence exists to suggest anything out of the ordinary.

In the end, she dismisses the second question to focus on the first.

"I don't know." She admits. "I'd never... done anything like this before. Maybe he did something wrong. Maybe he did everything right, and I did something wrong, I don't..."

She shakes her head.

"Okay?" The familiar says, strongly hinting that it would very much like an answer to that question, if Louise would be so kind as to offer it.

"... We won't kill him." She decides, not even bothering to contemplate the odds or the hows of it, if it was even possible, only focusing on the fact that there wasn't yet any proof of anything but an almost, but not quite, flattering level of over-eagerness. "At least, not yet, in any case."

"Hm? Is that so..."

"... I need to sleep. I cannot stay in the baths through the whole night."

Louise rises from the water and retreats from the room. After a few minutes, the faint stink of burnt hair appears, and dissipates shortly thereafter.

When morning comes, Louise finds herself poorly rested and ill of temper.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

The merchant was quickly persuaded to be less than free with the knowledge of who, exactly, had chartered passage on his ship.

The fact that the smallest one had a dark cast to her face, and had a sword strapped to her back that, when it all came down to it, was very large for her size but also very sharp and very pointy, was very helpful in convincing him. Even if she was a mage, and so didn't need to resort to such measures, in theory.

Especially so, even.

Because then, the question was 'why have it', to which the only logical answer, after a few moments of thought, was 'she prefers a more personal touch than arcane fire from across a field'. Which was something of a disturbing thought, to apply to a girl like, that, but her expression was pretty clearly yelling to the older man that, if she had to draw that sword? She would not be much bothered by where it might or might not end up before she put it away again.

He could hold his tongue. A lot better than having someone else hold it for him, anyway.

Of course, that was just the start of matters, and it wasn't long at all before he had begun to regret stepping out of bed at all that morning.

"Flying a black flag, I had a good look at some of the crew. It seems to be pirates." Wardes affirmed, setting the telescope away.

What he didn't mention, amidst gathered gasps of shock and dismay, was that while some of them looked more than pirate-y enough, the ship seemed very new and shiny, little like most of the barely-servicable pirate dinghies and stolen yachts that he had seen before, a true war galleon, and the captain of the vessel was so very painfully deliberately attired as a pirate, fancy hat and longcoat and cutlass, with a full beard and eye-patch, that he almost could not be more deliberately broadcasting his aeronautical fiendishness without, in fact, replacing both of his legs with bits of a table and keeping a parrot on hand that he could teach to swear at people on cue.

"That can't... can't you do something?" The merchant asked desperately. With three mages present, after all, surely...

"I, um... am afraid that my own magics are more suitable for use on the ground." Guiche admitted. "I may be able to construct some Valkyrie, but... there seem to be quite a lot of them."

"No good." Wardes agreed. "Once they are close enough to reliably attack with magic, they will be close enough that boarding will follow soon after. Attacking from this distance is to invite retaliatory cannon-fire."

"You have no cannon of your own, merchant?" Louise asked, peering out at the oncoming vessel.

"This is a transport only..." The merchant says, then shakes his head. "... One small one, only. An antique, I keep as a good luck piece. I am not certain it still works."

"No good, then." She grumbles. "And the viscount is correct. My accuracy, in specific, isn't so good that I can hit at this distance. I could bring down the mast... maybe shatter apart the hull. But once they're in range to do it, I don't know. Maybe they'll fall before they board and take over this ship, maybe they'll fire their cannons and we'll both go down. It's a gamble. Rumia... can you dispel your darkness enough to slip through the clouds, below, unseen?"

"... But it's hooot." The familiar complained, from inside her obsidian shell of night, reduced somewhat at previous urging, to allow others to see as they worked.

"It will be cooler in the clouds, and if you can get onboard, it will be much like the bandit encampment back then, save that they will have nowhere to run to outside-"

"I think it's too late for such measures." Guiche said, carefully, trying not to imagine exactly what the phrase 'nowhere to run to' might entail. "They are already here."

There was the heavy sound of wood clanking on wood, and the pirates did not so much walk over as they sauntered, smug in their current superiority, and content in the knowledge that they knew exactly what was about to happen next.

"Gentlemen." The captain said, nodding in a manner that could be construed as friendliness. "Milady. I believe you understand why we are here."

"Indeed." Louise replied frostily, stepping forward before anyone else had the chance to speak. "And it would be remiss not to hear you out. I, Louise, of the Valliere family, will therefore hear out your plea for surrender."

She is answered by a chorus of uproarious laughter, as the pirates, bandits of the sea and air as they were, tried to comprehend that statement.

"I do not believe you quite understand our relative positions, milady." The captain said, voice still friendly, but a little strained.

"No, pirate, I believe you are the one who misunderstands the positions." Louise replies, and draws her wand.

The pirates stiffen, then guffaw as she points it, not at any of them, but at an angle toward the deck. The only one who continues to be concerned is the captain, who looks confused for only a moment before shock crosses his features.

"Hold, men!" He orders instantly. "She isn't aiming at the floor."

"You see, then. I am, in fact, aiming at this vessel's Wind Stones, powering its flight." Louise agreed, as calmly as though she were discussing the weather, and ignoring the looks of dawning horror and Wardes' own unease with the gambit.

"Milady, are you aware of the ramifications of damage to the Wind Stones?"

"The mystic energy will be released. Violently." She answered, having come across the matter in her studies. "With these in particular... I estimate, given that they have probably been in use for some time, but are not likely used up to the point where they require replacing, that the following eruption will not be relatively large, but will be sufficient to destroy this entire vessel, and much of your own. There is a significant chance that your own Wind Stones will be damaged in the blast, leading to a secondary eruption. I wonder, how long has it been since yours were replaced?"

"I could order you shot." He warns, sternly. "Can you cast faster than a bullet?"

"Can I cast faster than you can give the order? Am I really willing to destroy myself, to obliterate an enemy? It is a gamble, pirate, which you will only discover the answer to by rolling the dice."

"L-louise." Guiche said, through a dry throat. "You can't... really mean to-"

"Silence, de Gramont." Louise ordered, hand twitching just a little.

It's enough to break the control of a nondescript pirate with a hair-trigger, and break the spell of indecision at the stand-off, as several single-shot pistols raise in her direction.

Louise doesn't have time to think about a response to this. She can only act. And without hesitating, she thrusts a hand into the darkness, ripping a surprised Rumia out, and interposing her between herself and the gunmen just in time for the first round to release.

Chaos erupts, and battle is joined, as Rumia howls, more in furious annoyance than pain at the lumps of metal which have buried themselves into her torso. Guiche's scream is significantly more shrill and feminine, as he dives behind a stack of crates, crew of the merchantman hiding themselves below decks to wait out the battle, as Wardes looks on, a little aghast at how rapidly his little Louise had turned everything to bloodshed and ruination.

"Your Valkyrie, de Gramont!" Louise calls, releasing Rumia to tear through the pirates, focused more on bloodshed and vengeance for her injuries than on death, as she herself hides behind a barrel, to fire out at the pirate vessel. "I would find one very useful, just at the moment!"

A pitiful groan is her answer, but petals float on the wind, and after a moment a gleaming construct of brass arrives to defend her as she makes more attacks, ignoring the mass of men to focus on ruining their vessel before they can retreat and get to enough distance to safely use their cannon. Three others remain near Guiche, keeping the coward safe as he hunkers down and prays that no real attacks are turned his way over this. Wardes is focused on defending himself and seems to be holding his own, but the numbers are such that unless he has a moment to take to the sky, he will inevitably take some kind of wound, the only think she can do is press on with her own tactic...

There are several chunks blasted out of the hull, and the mast is splintered and leaning, but refuses to fall, and...

And the Valkyrie is blasted apart in a cyclone of wind, as the pirate captain levels a wand directly at her head from the side.

"Louise, of the family Valliere of Tristain." He says grimly. "I... Prince Wales Tudor, of Albion, formally request that you call off your Familiar, and allow this battle come to a halt. Might we discuss the terms... of my surrender, somewhere more private."

... Louise is suddenly very uncertain about everything, being forced to take a surrender at wandpoint, by what claims to be the focus of her mission, but calls out the order to stop. It takes a more insistent call, echoing with threat, to bring Rumia to heel. It is fairly clear that Prince Wales, if this is not a pirate's desperate gambit, is less than impressed.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Louise was in a smallish room, watching someone read a list of damages. This seemed to be proving an all too common occurence for her, save that this time the damage is in men, and not in things.

"One of my men is dead." Prince Wales began, seated at a desk, looming as best he can, with his fingers steepled before him. "Two more are dying. We do what we can, but it is unlikely they will last until we have returned, and they can be brought to a proper healer. Another four are grievously injured, over the small wounds left in your familiar's wake. Roberts' leg cannot be found. It appears it may have gone overboard in the confusion."

Rumia affects a carefully cultured look of pristine innocence so very genuine that none looking upon it could help but consider it false. It was fortunate, in her case, that the shround of shadow about her disguised her features sufficiently that her expression could not have been determined anyway.

Louise, for her part, felt guilty for a very brief moment.

Then she felt furious.

"Your highness, Prince Wales Tudor." She replied stiffly. "Are you attempting to guilt me into [i]apologizing for defending myself[/i]?"

"[i]I[/i] am merely detailing the losses incurred through this... [i]fiasco[/i]." He bit back, voice equally stiff and incensed. "Seven men! Four that will likely be saved, but these are seven men that I cannot afford to lose."

"And so you will demand an apology for daring to [i]defend myself[/i]?" Louise snapped again. "You boarded our vessel under false pretenses! In the garb of pirates, bandits of sea and sky, you boarded our vessel and demanded we surrender. What did you [i]expect[/i]?"

"I expected that you would [i]surrender[/i], as would any rational person faced with an overwhelming force, with no honor to be gained in a battlefield death!"

Louise reeled as though she had been physically struck.

"Surrender? [i]Surrender[/i]? To [i]pirates[/i] you would have me surrender? What manner of noble...? What manner of [i]woman[/i] do you take me for?"

"The sort that, when pressed, will hold an entire ship hostage, and then physically drag their own familiar between themselves and gunfire." Prince Wales said flatly, the faintest trace of disgust coloring his tone.

It was all that Louise could do not to draw Derflinger. But she forced herself calm.

"When [i]your troops[/i] opened fire, I had to choose quickly, whether to take the bullets [i]myself[/i], or ensure that they found their way to one who would not be killed by them."

"And so you forced your own [i]familiar[/i] to take the blow."

"She was not [i]harmed[/i]! As you yourself saw."

"I saw that she felt [i]pain[/i]." He snapped. "I saw that you did not give her a [i]choice[/i], though the fury of it was turned on us. I saw that it [i]need not have come to that in the first place[/i]."

"The other option." She said, voice cold as a winter's night. "Was to [i]surrender to pirates[/i]."

"You would have been treated well, until port could be made and the deception shed!" Wales argued, fist slamming down onto the table. "The worst you had to fear was, perhaps, that you might be held for a ransom from-"

Louise's own fist joined his, making an equally loud noise.

"The worst? [i]The worst[/i] I had to fear, Ransom? You [i]jest[/i], Prince Wales Tudor, and I am not in the mood to be made a fool of."

"You had [i]nothing[/i] to fear!"

"I had [i]everything[/i] to fear!" Louise said, voice rising until she dimly realized that she was shouting Wales Tudor down.

A prince. Shouting in the face of a [i]prince[/i]. ... Not [i]her[/i] prince. But Henrietta held some affection for the man. For the moment, she would cool her temper.

"Everything." She said again, more quietly. "And you know [i]nothing[/i] of bandits, be they of land, sea, or air, if you do not understand that much. They are the absolute, filthiest dregs of humanity. You perhaps know that I have hunted bounties? One would be [i]hard pressed[/i] indeed to have failed to learn something of the habits and predilections of those they hunt, even keeping to those less dangerous, worth at most a few hundred gold per head."

Prince Wales slowly settled back in his chair, eyes narrowed as he contemplates the discussion.

"... [i]Perhaps[/i]." He says, after a long moment, the word coming out as though it were a tooth pulled, and as painfully. "I erred. Explain to me, Louise of the Valliere, why this is so."

"As a Prince..." Louise said, slowly, matching his stare with her own, refusing to back down. "I suspect the closest contact you have come to with a bandit would be, perhaps, the desperate pleas of a caught criminal explaining why he was, of course, not in the wrong to practice his petty lawbreaking and throwing himself on the mercy of the crown? And if not there, then perhaps licentious novels, in which a handsome, roguish rake of a criminal would miraculously find true love in the eyes of a noblewoman whose purse he is relieving her of the burden of carrying. Whereafter he would whisk the distressed damsel away to his secret fortress or hidden lair, and woo her in private, until she saw fit to return his affections?"

"Such books are known to exist within the palace." Wales replied guardedly, not confirming or denying her suspicions.

"There is one point they do not adress." Louise continued. "Or rather, several, but they begin with the first. For even if he does delude himself into believing what he feels is love, rather than perverse interest and lust, a bandit [i]does not feel obligated to accept a denial[/i]."

Wales stiffened, it being his turn to seem as though he had been physically struck.

"Worse, still, if this bandit acts in a [i]group[/i], rather than alone, for he does in general have enough personal might and authority, even if he leads the pack of lawless brigands, to claim a woman for [i]himself alone[/i] unless there are spoils aplenty to go around. If not, then even the leader cannot do more than claim the [i]first[/i] violation of the captured spoils, and while a lesser brigand must pass her over for the leader's 'right' to the first pickings, or be turned upon by his fellows, so must the leader pass her along to be used by his [i]men[/i], once his interest can be argued to have passed enough, lest they all turn on [i]him[/i]."

Louise snorted in a very unladylike fashion as Wales failed to completely meet her eyes.

"I should think." Wardes said softly, having remained silent through the conversation until now, Rumia ignoring the chatter in a sulky huff, and Guiche having gone a curious mixture of pale and greenish at the picture painted with Louise's words. "That were anyone to advise [i]my wife[/i] that she should have simply... surrendered herself to such a fate, without so much as a struggle? I should think I would have... very strong words for them indeed."

The prince's eyes flick quickly between Louise and Wardes, but he does not have the time to formulate a sentence before Louise has spoken again.

"The [i]worst[/i] I had to fear from pirates... Ransom?" Louise said stiffly, arms crossed across her chest. "Make no mistake. Had I believed capture by [i]pirates[/i] was inevitable, I would not have hesitated, nor given further warning, before [i]dragging every last one of you screaming to the earth with me as our ships erupted into flame and fury[/i]. For if I were captured by pirates, the very [i]best[/i] I might hope for would be that they were too busy to take time with other amusements, that they might simply [i]open my throat[/i] and have done, and then pitch the remains off the side, rather than [i]desecrate[/i] them with their filth."

There is a long moment of tense silence.

"I have, I see... [i]erred[/i]." Prince Wales says, admission once again as painful as wrenching loose fingernails. "Both in preparation and in the estimation of risk. The blame for my mens condition... lies largely upon my own head. This [i]does not[/i] excuse the treatment of your familiar."

"It was the most rational decision I could make." Louise said again, through grit teeth, patience being sorely tested. "[i]One[/i] of us would die, were the bullets to strike home before a shield could be cast. One of us would [i]not[/i]."

"I may [i]understand[/i] that decision. It does not mean I [i]agree[/i] with it!"

"Surrender was an [i]unacceptable[/i] alternative."

"You have made that [i]perfectly[/i] clear, lady Valliere!" the prince snapped, face darkening for a moment at his failure once more being rubbed almost deliberately in his face. "But I do not believe you stopped to so much as consider your actions beforehand."

"There was no [i]time[/i] to hold a lengthy mental debate, with guns raising to fire. Rumia has suffered worse injury, without being significantly hindered. I have [i]seen[/i] this for fact, and no matter how her appearance may seem, she is [i]not human[/i]-"

"THAT much, having seen your familiar lay waste to my crew, I can believe!" the prince snapped in turn. "But enough of this. [i]Neither[/i] of us will sway the other, it seems."

'No matter how wrong you are, Valliere.' is a sentence which remains unspoken, but that Louise can see written all over the prince's face.

"Let us dispense with talk that will only anger us further." He continues. "You have not come into my country, in the midst of war and turmoil, for the sake of your health. I cannot, unfortunately, send you away until the morning, as too much activity will be noticed by the Reconquista. Tell me [i]now[/i] what it is you seek, however, so that I may give it to you and be [i]rid[/i] of you without having to suffer your presence any longer than that."

"Astonishing, my little Louise." Wardes says softly. "You may in fact be so fantastically, wretchedly terrible of an ambassador..."

"... that you have plunged through the rock bottom and found yourself at the other end, as a successful diplomat." Guiche finishes for him, voice filled with horrified awe.

Louise ignores them both.

"I am sent by my lady Henrietta." She says instead, withdrawing the token of proof. A number of expressions cross Wales' face in swift succession before settling into cool, courtly neutrality. "There is an item in your possession, which she dearly wishes returned to her."

"... Of course." He replies, an honestly wistful tone in his voice. "I had heard rumors, naturally, of the coming plans for marriage. I had contemplated sending it back, as a wedding gift, but fear of having it intercepted... of course, the fear remained, that I would never have the chance to deal with it. And yet, I could never bring myself to destroy it. No, it is perhaps better that it be returned to Henrietta. It is secured in my quarters at the palace. ... I will place it in your keeping this very night."

"You have my gratitude for your understanding in this matter." Louise replied, by now appearing so calm and collected that an outside observer might have found it impossible to tell that she had been in what could all but be considered a shouting match with the Prince hardly a minute previously.

She pauses for a moment, before speaking again. Perhaps it is not her place, and perhaps it will cause problems with the political marriage (with a [i]Germanian[/i], a disgusted portion of her mind points out, excusing the possible interference as best it can) but even so.

"This is not a command given me." She admits. "But even so, my lady Henrietta... she holds you in high regard. I have heard a very little of the civil war with Reconquista... and it is not promising. She will not be well pleased to learn that you have fallen in battle. Will you not come away, O prince, to return to the side of one who loves you?"

"... Hah. Thou art truly a marvel." He says, in a tone that suggests this is not a compliment. "In the one breath deriding literature and in the next quoting dramatic poetry to add emphasis to a request."

He shakes his head.

"I will not abandon my men while I retreat from the glorious death awaiting me."

"... I see." Louise replies grimly, even as Guiche nods in unhesitating approval of the sentiment. Idiot... [i]men[/i], the both of them. News of his death will break the princess' heart, and he doesn't care at [i]all[/i].

There is some commotion as the merchantman and its 'escort' come to a rest at the castle of Albion, and while the wailing merchant's goods are appropriated for the good of the monarchy of Albion, some men are rapidly hurried to the infirmary, while what remains of others are taken, somberly, to a completely different room, where a dour-faced priest reads their last rites and, as a fire mage, delivers their bodies to a makeshift funeral pyre, collecting ashes into urns to be neatly labeled and sent back to their families, if such an opportunity arose.

Louise felt another small moment of guilt, before she quashed it.

It was not her fault. [i]They had started it.[/i]

There is little she can overhear or important plans or observed movements of enemy troops, either before or after recieving the Letter from Wales. All she can determine is that there have been movements, and while they are uncertain of the date, an attack is expected. Soon. And they do not expect that they will be able to repel it when it comes, though they plan to make ten men, or more, fall for every one of theirs.

What she does learn, of course, is that there is a feast planned, to celebrate the last night that they might be alive. And that, grudgingly, they are the guests of honor.

There is dancing. There is singing. There are fine meats and expensive drinks, which lift the mood of even her sulking familiar, and gaety abounds.

And she still cannot forget that Prince Wales Tudor is likely soon to die, and that his passing will leave Henrietta weeping tears fit to fill a riverbed.

"Are you so eager to fall in battle?" She asks seriously, when a spare moment arises.

"All men must fall, when their appointed time comes." Wales replies, fatalistically. "It is my fortune that honor and glory might come in my death. I cannot ask for more."

"You can ask for [i]life[/i]." Louise says, again, ignoring his scowl. "I will ask again. Will you not return with me to Tristain?"

"No. I will not [i]run[/i] from my end, like a cringing hound with its tail between its legs. I will face my fate and fall as a man! Do not ask me this again, Valliere." He snaps.

Louise can only sigh at the stubborn refusal as Wardes comes to her side, taking her hand in his with the pleasant smile of a newlywed seeing his wife pay more attention to some other man than to him.

It is time to retire.

Sleep does not come for some time.

Rumia had eaten and eaten and eaten, gorging herself until the cold fury, at first being used as a shield and then, [i]then[/i] being forced away from punishing those that had inflicted those unexpected and humiliating petty wounds on her before she had [i]finished[/i] demonstrating exactly how cross she was with them, faded.

She did not sleep, however.

Her blood was not boiling, but while the fury had faded, there was still anger there, that would only pass with spilling the blood of others, a hunger gnawing in her gut that simple foodstuff could not sate.

Given time, or given sufficient reason, she could quell this need on her own. The first had not yet passed, and she had not found the second. And so she took, instead, to the night-time sky, hoping for an opportunity to vent her spleen without, quite, being capable of planning to [i]arrange[/i] for one.

And as she watched the guards movements, always in pairs or groups and never, sadly, in the lone straggler to inspect some odd noise of the night or suspicious shift in shadows, she noticed something.

That human, there. That was a gate. He was working at something, and the gate... it was opening. She lowered herself, in the sky, to peer down, inspecting the man in the mask, and the now open gate, in closer detail.

And the people pouring through it. My, that was a lot of people.

Slowly, dimly, and despite the Seal's displeasure at the event, the thought occured to her that the inhabitants of the castle would [i]probably[/i] not mind too much if a few of these humans, or more, happened to die. Violently.

A smile bloomed and grew on Rumia's face as she swooped down, a streak of darkness against the stars.

An opportunity had arrived.

Louise woke to the distant, chaotic sounds of a castle being invaded, and a bed empty save for herself. Both were unexpected.

"Castle is under attack." Derflinger noted conversationally.

"I had [i]gathered[/i] that much." Louise said in turn, rising quickly and dressing, strapping Derflinger to her back... and picking up a small, sharp fruit knife from the bedside table.

"Hey! You don't need [i]that[/i] when you have [i]me[/i]." Derflinger insisted, seeming a little insulted at her picking up the smaller blade as she made her way out of the chamber.

"You are big. And visible. And [i]loud[/i]." Louise countered. "Right now, I need [i]none[/i] of those..."

Derflinger grunted, but quieted down into silence as she crept through the castle, stopping to look out the windows. The battle had somehow bypassed the outer wall entirely, and was taking place along the courtyards and the inner walls of the castle, defending force slowly being pushed back, men falling one by one even as they surged out of the castle like ants defending a hive.

They were losing. And losing badly. Leaving the castle could not, after all, wait for the morning to come. Time was running out, and still...

She hurried on, only to find Guiche waiting at what turned out to be her destination, a raised and open courtyard, left mostly untouched by the battle below, save for...

"I don't understand." Guiche whispered hoarsely. "The viscount, sir Wardes, is... he is truly and honestly attempting to assassinate the prince?"

Wales was holding his own, remarkably well for a 'mere' triangle-class against a Square Class mage. Proof of the superiority of monarchy in the same way nobility was superior to commoners, keeping on so long after he should have fallen, perhaps? It was clear that this battle had [i]not[/i] just now begun.

Louise made up her mind.

"My husband is a traitor to the crown." she said, grimly.

Guiche started, mouth a little open.

"You... you do not sound surprised?" He said, throat dry.

"I had my suspicions." Louise admitted. "For some time, now. It doesn't matter, at the moment. Guiche... you must go. Get the merchantman, prepare for an [i]expeditious[/i] retreat and..."

She thinks very rapidly, watching the fight.

"... And collect a healer as well. You [i]must[/i] bring one of their healers along. Even a dot class water mage will do, right now, though I would prefer... it doesn't matter, whatever you can get."

"The defense will need every healer they can get!" Guiche argues softly.

"The defense is dying... they will need no healers when they are dead to the last man. You have to get one. [i]Bribe[/i] one, knock one in the [i]head[/i], ply them with romantic words and offer your [i]body[/i] if you must, but do not fail me in this!" she hisses.

"You cannot be serious!" He hisses back in turn, then flinches at her glower. "I... I'll do what I can. Do not expect [i]miracles[/i] of me, Louise." He begs, before disappearing back into the castle.

No miracles from Guiche, no.

Louise was saving all of the desperate hope for miracles for [i]herself[/i], just at the moment, as she flitted out into the shadow of the courtyard, watching the two men dance across the stone and sky, lightning crackling through the air and winds whirling to snatch and cut at cloth and flesh, shields having long since been battered away in the face of the opposing spells, and neither having the time or the willpower to spare to erect more.

She waited. Hopefully. Patiently. Most of all, [i]praying[/i] silently, grip like a vice, that neither of them were going to notice her, that they would keep focusing on each other as the only real threat in the area.

And then a miracle happened.

For just the briefest moment, Wardes was forced down to just within lunging reach of Louise's patch of concealing shadow. Miracle of miracles, his back was even turned towards her, feet entirely on the ground.

She could not hesitate, and waste this one, shining opportunity, as he snatched a quick breath, in [i]thought[/i].

She moved.

Wardes' breath hitched, and the blood drained slowly from his face as his arm fell down to his side, wand clattering down from nerveless fingers. He stumbled a single step forward, hand reaching back around in some desperate effort to... perhaps grab the fruit knife buried between his ribs, piercing his heart, and pull it free, perhaps in a vain attempt to staunch the flow of his life blood.

He turned, slowly, no more attention to give to Wales, settling down on the flagstones, previously the only important thing in the general area.

"Louise...?" He croaked, slowly. "My little... Louise? Why...?" He asked, seeming honestly injured and betrayed at her...

Well, at her betrayal. She had just murdered her husband, traitor to the crown or not, there was not exactly any more apt a word for it.

"Viscount Wardes. You are a traitor to the crown." Louise says, voice devoid of any sort of emotion. "The sentence for treason is, and can only be, immediate execution."

His voice rasps a little more, breath growing more and more ragged as he tries to stave off the end.

"... In my own way." He croaks. "Even now... I truly loved..."

Wardes can find no more words, and simply reaches out, slowly, towards her face. But Louise is not in arms reach, and his hand grasps only empty air, cupping nothing, as his eyes fog. Then he slowly topples forward, collapsing into the flagstones, knife handle standing tall from his back like a bitter flag of resentment, a deep crimson pool flowing outwards from beneath him.

"... Cold blood of a serpent." Prince Wales whispers, just barely loud enough for her to hear. "You are... something that could be called a monster, lady Valliere."

He shakes his head and turns away, to look instead at the battle below, and it's all she can do for a moment not to rip that little knife free and lunge at [i]him[/i] for saying such things. Not least for the small, vocal part of her mind that is speaking up to quietly say that, you know, he just might be [i]right[/i].

"Prince Wales Tudor, of Albion." She says instead, voice still without emotion to it and dull. "You will return with me to Tristain."

"Did I not [i]say[/i] not to ask-" Wales begins, turning angrily.

Louise interrupts him by bringing Derflinger, still sheathed, crashing down on his head. The prince drops like a puppet with its strings suddenly cut mid-motion.

"You misunderstand." Louise said quietly. "This is no longer a [i]request[/i]."

She turns to take in the large battlefield below, judging time, and then unsheathes Derflinger. She cannot carry Wardes' entire body along, but she has grown into something of a habit now, when a criminal meets their end at her hand. And what is a traitor but a criminal of a larger scale?

She cleans Derflinger carefully, of course, on the few patches of Wardes' clothes that remain unmarked by blood, before heaving Wales' arm up over her shoulders and half-carrying half-dragging the prince along.

Elsewhere, across the battlefield, a certain masked man clutches at his chest as his body, just for a moment, loses cohesion, crackling with electricity. Once the moment passes, he very rapidly retreats from the field of battle.

Rumia regrets letting him go, but her Master is calling from the castle walls, barely to be heard, her thirst for undirected vengeance has been [i]mostly[/i] sated, and there is just such a [i]fascinating[/i] smell of blood lingering around the little Master, dripping down from that thing tied off at her belt.

How can she refuse an interesting call like that?


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Wales drifted in and out of consciousness for a few hours, as the merchant ship drifted equally somberly away from the war-torn country, crossing far above the sea and floating slowly down to the ports of Tristain. But it was not to last forever, and he woke with a ragged gasp.

"Easy, your highness." A gentle, soothing voice came, as his eyes darted around the room. They locked on Louise, sagging into a seat as she stared up at the ceiling, lost in her own thoughts. "You may have a very small concussion. I am no mage, so I cannot heal your injury, but it will pass-"

"Concuss... You [i]struck[/i] me!" He yelps, making to sit up sharply before wincing from the pain and dropping back down to the bed. "You dishonorable... why would you-?"

"Henrietta is not well served by your charging to the death of a [i]fool[/i]." Louise snapped.

"A fool...? You have made me [i]betray my own men and country[/i], scampering off like a rat into a hole to save my own life, while they die in my stead-"

"Highness... if I may be so bold as to speak?" The servant said carefully. "I am no healer in truth. I have no magic, the best I might offer is to bind wounds that are not so dire as to need immediate attention, and offer what simple herbcraft I may. But yes, I chose to serve you, Highness. Not because I felt obligated to support the monarchy against Reconquista. Not because I felt I had no choice, or because my beliefs matched so perfectly with that of a monarchy. I serve, highness, because I believe in [i]you[/i]. And I know, for truth, that I was far from the only one in your service who, more than ideals or reasoning, believed in you, Highness."

"And I have left them to die alone-"

"It is [i]not[/i] a wasted death!" The servant interrupts. Then shakes his head. "... I apologize, I should not speak so freely in your presence, Highness, but I feel you must understand. I am no soldier, but I would fight and die for your cause. I would have laid down my life alongside you, had I not been shown that your escape had been engineered, though enforced, and so when I tell you this you must understand that I [i]know[/i] this, but every one of your men who have fought and died, fight all the harder, and are happier far to fall, knowing that every moment of time they earn with their blood [i]is another moment in which you live, Highness[/i], and pass further and further from the jaws of defeat."

"... The castle is lost." Wales mourns.

"Castles can be taken and retaken." Louise interrupts irritably. "If you're still alive, then you can build another army, and go back to put down the treacherous dogs for good. Is that so troublesome a concept, Prince Wales Tudor of Albion?"

His glower showed that, no matter what kind of advice might be offered, Wales would be [i]less[/i] than pleased to hear it pass from her lips. The servant shrugged helplessly, and casually allowed his gaze to travel, hintingly, towards the door. Louise rose graciously from her seat, still haggard, and lurched out of the room.

"... You could not even find a Dot mage?" She asked in annoyance.

"I told you, Louise, not to expect a [i]miracle[/i]." Guiche complained, equally out of sorts with the whole situation. "All the mages were involved in the thick of the fighting. Things had become desperate. That was the [i]best[/i] I could manage, and even then he was prepared to join the battle until it became clear that you had [i]kidnapped the prince, what were you thinking, you madwoman[/i]?"

Louise waved off his concerns.

"Rest, while you can." She advised. "It's only a few more hours until we make port. Then, once the shipmaster has been paid, we take our leave and ride for the Princess."

"The man should consider it an honor, to convey Nobles and a Prince."

"A [i]foreign[/i] prince. Duty works, for the most part, but I have begun to discover that [i]coin[/i] causes many matters to progress far more smoothly for all involved."

"We shall be purchasing horses?"

"Impossible. The wolf will terrify them until they collapse and die."

"Then we ride your beast, and the griffin? Your familiar, she can fly indefinitely. I suppose that it will not be too much of a difficulty, riding double, but with the servant as well..." Guiche said, wearily.

"This is also impossible." Louise said flatly, taking a moment to consider whether or not she wanted Guiche to know the full details, and deciding against it. "The Griffin is no longer present."

"No longer... no. Did it become wild once more, and break for freedom upon Wardes' death?" Guiche asked, perplexed.

"It doesn't matter." She said, irritably. "In any case, the late viscount's griffin is no longer available for transportation purposes."

And she had been met with equally innocent stares from the wolf and her Familiar when she inspected the storage decks, to find it missing. At least the [i]wolf[/i] was fed, though she had concerns as to whether [i]anything[/i] would fill her familiar's belly enough to cease the ravenous hunger it displayed.

"Without horses, without transport, Louise, do you expect a [i]Prince[/i] to walk such a distance? Injured, no less?" Guiche stressed.

"No."

A smile crossed Louise's face, as an idea formed. She would have been happy to attempt it herself, had she the ability, but such was life. She would of course have to make do with what was available.

It was shiny. It was flashy, the morning light gleaming off of edges and reflecting from flat surfaces blindingly. It was loud, as metal hooves and wheels drew sparks from the cobbles.

It was, Guiche reflected, seated in the driver's seat of the bronze carriage, drawn by two bronze stallions, keeping the whole interlinked mass of mettallic golem going with every last shred of his willpower, also quite possibly the most [i]exhausting[/i] endeavor he had ever performed. He had met his limits, and as Louise equally urged him on and jeered at his misery from her comfortable seat upon that blasted wolf, he had [i]surpassed[/i] them as hours of grueling endurance passed, and miles sped by. He was a Line mage, now, he knew, and [i]still[/i] it barely kept him from collapsing in place, from passing out in exhaustion and allowing the whole thing to come apart... but he could not. There was a Prince seated behind him, as well as a servant though that was of less consequence, and if he allowed himself to falter now, then he, Guiche de Gramont, would be solely responsible for that Prince's injury in the resulting crash, and that [i]could not be allowed[/i].

The world was spinning as they finally, mercifully, came to a rest and a stop at the rear gates of the Palace of Tristain, where Henrietta was no doubt waiting inside. He made it to his feet, and managed to brace himself against the side of the bronze carriage for long enough for the Prince and his servant to make it clear.

Then he collapsed into a pitiful heap on the ground, every last drop of his willpower, and then some, utterly spent.

"Still alive, de Gramont?" Louise asked conversationally, peering down at him from above. In normal circumstances, he would have cherished the opportunity their relative positions offered. At the moment, he could barely comprehend it.

"No more." He croaked. "No more. Wretched slave-driver of a woman, let me die in blessed peace."

"Oh, but your [i]devoted[/i] bevy of fair maidens would be so [i]distraught[/i] to learn that their... what was it? 'Rose that blooms for the pleasure of all', I think I have heard you say a time or two? Had [i]wilted[/i]. Up with you, de Gramont."

He can barely move from the exhaustion, and cannot fight her off, but he can feel her hefting him more or less to his feet, though his feet actually drag behind him a bit. She doesn't hand him off to a servant inside, though, carrying him along herself after a [i]stern[/i] word to the wolf and familiar, ordering them to stay put.

It's all well and good for her. [i]She[/i] wasn't the one animating and manipulating over a blasted ton of bronze continuously since before dawn! She just had to stay on the blasted [i]wolf[/i].

Directions are given and followed, leading to an antechamber where the princess is taking her morning tea. Louise knocks, awaits the call, and enters, prince and his servant only a short few paces behind.

"Your Highness, I..." She says, starting strong, but rapidly trailing off, as she freezes in place, then takes one hesitant and cautious step back. "... I will return later?" She tries hopefully.

"I think you shall not." her mother's voice sounds out, simply echoing with Authority.

'Why are you here?' Is the desperate question in Louise's eyes.

'You know full well I am known to the Queen. Is it so strange to find old friends sharing a cup of tea, even with her daughter present?' Karin's eyes answered, and continued on with 'Also, I see you have the Gramont boy over your shoulder, Prince Wales of Albion following in your footsteps, and there appears to be a severed head hanging from your belt. I would be much obliged if you would explain these circumstances, and swiftly.'

"H-highness." Louise tried again, stumbling verbally for a moment as she recollected herself. "I have discovered a traitor in your court, who made an attempt upon the life of Prince Wales of Albion to further the goals of the anti-Monarchy group, Reconquista."

'This is an acceptable explanation.' Karin's eyes admitted, as she took another sip of tea. 'And on closer inspection, I see that that severed head once was worn on Wardes' shoulders. A shame.'

Henrietta seems focused on Wales, for the moment, jaw slightly slack, but a nudge from her own mother sends her back into speech.

"You have our gratitude." She says, starting uncertain, but settling into a more regal tempo almost immediately. "As a token of our favor, we believe that alloting those lands and titles once under the command of this traitor be transferred into your keeping. If there are no objections, of course, from the lady Valliere?"

"I find this more than suitable, and generous." Karin replies, voice suitably demure for accepting a gift from Royalty.

"Then so shall it be?" Henrietta said, glancing at her mother for only a moment for approval. "Our gratitude, of course, goes also to you, young Guiche de Gramont." She says, and hesitates only briefly to skim through her mind for something suitable. "You will be considered for the title of Chevalier, and should you find yourself interested in joining any of our Knights, we will place a small word in the ears of those who decide such things to suggest officer training, for such a prime candidate."

"K-knight... Knight officer...?" Guiche said, seeming stunned for a moment, though in part it was from the fact that his tongue would not, at the moment, quite work. "It... is beyond generous, your Highness."

Henrietta held out a hand, calmly, and Louise placed the Letter in it.

"You have accomplished the task we have set out before you... and gone above and beyond the expectations placed." She said, drawing fingers across the Letter before securing it. "Our gratitude, again, goes out to you both."

"It is, however, a shame that the Viscount proved treacherous." Karin said, looking morose for a moment. "I would not have wished to place you in such a position, my daughter, where you might find yourself crossing wands with your betrothed."

There is suddenly an oppressive air in the room, and Guiche almost wishes he could make his limbs move again, so that he could crawl out of it as fast as he could.

"... My lady mother." Louise began, as evenly and tactfully as she could manage, not quite meeting Karin's gaze. "I stand before you now, newly widowed."

There is a sharp noise, and most of the cup in Karin's hand dropped to crack apart against the table before her, spilling tea outwards. She opened her hand, bemused, to stare idly at a few shards of china, porcelain dust, and a few flecks of blood.

"... Goodness." She said, tone of her voice frosty as the deepest winter nights, and promising death, dismemberment, and other, [i]far[/i] less pleasant things. "I must apologize. I seem to have damaged your Majesty's fine china. You are well, daughter?"

"I am... In some level of distress." Louise admitted, as Henrietta's eyes turned rapidly between Karin and Louise. "And I would, in truth, have preferred that things had been otherwise. I will, however, survive."

Karin nodded flatly, smearing slight traces of blood about her fingers with her thumb before withdrawing a small kerchief and, with white knuckles, wiping her hand clean.

"... I believe conveyance can be arranged to return you to the Academy?" she said, voice tight and perfectly restrained.

"Indeed. I will, I admit, be somewhat grateful to return to simple lessons..." No matter how little good they had ever done her, when it came down to it.

"Good. We will speak, at a later date." Karin said, rising stiffly to her feet.

Later that night, the capital of Tristain would be kept awake by the most powerful, flashiest, and most violently torrential thunderstorm for decades past.

But that is, of course, neither here nor there.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

"I [i]killed[/i] him." Louise groaned into her cup sorrowfully, words slurred a little from the strong drink.

Colbert made reassuring noises, the maid patted her shoulder consolingly, and Tabitha took a moment to look over the edge of her book at her and frown. Which, from Tabitha, was something of the equivalent of gathering the other girl to her bosom and insisting that everything would be all right, not to worry.

None of them addressed the elephant in the room that was Wardes' head, seated as a centerpiece of the table, not yet begun to properly decay.

"He was a traitor, and I had no [i]choice[/i], but... he said there, at the end. He loved me. Even after killing him, he, and I, I just stood there and let him hit the [i]ground[/i]."

"It must have been difficult, my lady." Siesta replied, trying not to look at the grisly centerpiece, feeling as though it was giving an ominous and baleful stare out to the rest of the occupants.

"... My cup. Empty." Louise says, equally sorrowfully.

"Ah, of course. My lady. Oh... you are-"

"It's fine." Louis slurred. "I'm drunk. A bit, at least. Getting more so. I'm allowed to get weepy, now."

"I'm sure that you will regret this in the morning." Colbert warned, but made no further objection as Louise proffered her once again empty cup vaguely, and had it refilled by the maid.

"You're good. A good girl. I like you." Louise rambled, showing appreciation as much as she could. "I need to... to talk. With the headmaster. Buy your contract. I need to do that. File papers. Proffessor, can you. File papers? For me? I don't think I can... write straight. Right now."

"Yes, I could do that." Colbert said, not promising to actually do so, but appeasing the drunken, volatile student.

"That's... good. It's good. ... I [i]killed[/i] him and still loved me." She groaned, mind working its way back around to the subject, and tears broke out anew as she dropped the cup uncaringly back to the table, reaching out to Wardes' head and cradling it to herself. "I'm [i]sorry[/i]! I didn't [i]mean[/i] to... no. I [i]meant[/i] to. But I didn't. Want. Didn't [i]want[/i] to [i]have[/i] to kill you like I did... Why did you have to be a traitor, Wardes? Why did you have to [i]do[/i] that to me?"

"And I think you have probably had more than enough." Colbert judged, wisely.

"I'll... [i]tell you[/i] when I've had... enough." Louise growled, drawing her wand. Colbert looked down it, less than concerned.

"This would be significantly more worrying, miss Valliere, if you were not holding your wand exactly backwards." He said, note of grim amusement in his voice. "The worst you'll do with it that way is perhaps give someone a solid thump with the handle."

"... Stupid [i]wand[/i]." Louise groaned. "Turning. On me like this. Traitor. Like Wardes was a traitor. I [i]killed[/i] Wardes you know! With a fruit knife, from behind, in the back! See where that got [i]him[/i] you stupid stick, I should whittle you away for tinder! With a fruit knife. A fruit knife like this one. In my hand."

Through the course of Louise's grumbling rant, a fruit knife, from a small platter of fruit had indeed found its way into her hand, and she spent a long several moments staring at it in a sort of surprised horror. Then she threw it away from herself in disgust, to clatter across the floor, as she heaved.

"Breathe Louise." Colbert said, rising from his seat to place a hand carefully at her back. "Breathe. We are here. It is now. It isn't back then, or back there."

"I can still... I can still see the look on his face, and feel the blood splashing on my fingers." Louise said in a hollow, small voice.

"Did you love him?" Siesta asked quietly, desperately trying to change the subject, but not having much success.

"I don't... know." Louise croaked, slowly. "I think. If he hadn't been a traitor. I might have. I could have. Learned to. I used to. Think I did... anyway. We were married, despite... my uncertainties. Would have had time."

"I suppose you would have. Nobles do not often marry for love, I have heard. He was... your first girlish love?"

"yes." Louise answers softly. "I had not seen him... not for years. I thought. For a moment. It was all about to come crashing back onto me. How I felt before. ... But it didn't. I just... suspected. Something was wrong. I could have learned. To feel that way again, but..."

"It's a sad situation." siesta agreed. Then, still trying to change the subject, she pressed on.

"Was he... good for you, after dark, if I can ask such a thing?"

Colbert coughed and looked away, trying his best to signify that he would far rather have any other conversation but the sort of thing this might turn to, sequestered as he was with a faculty maid and two of his students. Louise, for her part, just stared.

"... I don't know?" she said, uncertainly. "It was... the wedding night. I didn't like it much. The second night... in the castle. It wasn't... as bad?"

"It wasn't good? I'm sorry... but that might be a good thing?" Siesta tried. "If he wasn't good at it, then that means... it means he didn't have any practice at it, right? That could be. That he was waiting for the time to come, so he could be with you?"

"... You really... think so?" Louise asked. For a long moment, Siesta hoped that she had pierced Louise's funk. But she was to be disappointed, as tears welled up again.

"... And I went and [i]killed him anyway[/i]." She choked out, as the maid sighed regretfully.

"I don't think we'll be getting anywhere further tonight." Colbert admitted, shaking his head. "Perhaps it's best we retired, do you think?"

"So sorry..." Louise sniffled, clutching the grisly trophy to herself like some horrific teddy bear.

Tabitha snapped her book shut, rather than reply verbally, and rose from her seat, leaving the room behind as she made for her quarters, deep in thought. Partway there, she paused, and after a moment nodded. Then she turned, and made a small detour, taking a somewhat different route to her room.

Kirche took a deep breath outside the door. This was it. She was not, this time, going to panic and run off like a naive little girl trying to confess her first [i]crush[/i]. She had incinerated a [i]very[/i] nice pillow from the frustration of the aftermath of her [i]last[/i] attempt, and she had no intention to do so again. She did not have so many very nice pillows to spare.

She did not knock. The Zerbst were bold, and went where they will, to do as they pleased, even if that happened to be another student's private quarters.

"Whyyy...?" Louise wailed, inside, giving her pause as Kirche took in the display of the Valliere, [i]severed head[/i] clutched fitfully in her hands, very stressed and put-upon seeming maid standing nearby.

She very nearly decided to cancel the whole thing right there and come back some other day.

But she was a Zerbst, and would not be put off by such things as a classmate having apparently gone quite mad. She just needed, perhaps, a moment or two to regroup, before she pressed the attack once more. It was odd that Louise seemed not to have noticed her yet, but... ah. Now that she took a moment, the stench of alcohol was lingering heavily on the air, right now.

"Why, why, why." Louise groaned. "I'm a good person... right? I'm not horrible? I don't... [i]deserve[/i] this sort of thing, right...? So, why? Why do these things keep happening? Why do they keep happening to [i]me[/i], I don't... Why? [i]TELL ME, WARDES, WHY?[/i]"

Louise had finished her wailing rant by roaring directly into the severed head's face, and for one pristinely horrific moment, Kirche is almost convinced that the head is about to answer her.

Thankfully, it does not.

"You aren't a bad person." Kirche answers, finally getting a stiffening Louise's attention. "It just... seems like it's easier, somehow, for bad things to happen to you, I suppose."

"And what do [i]you[/i] want...?" Louise grumbled sulkily, then took several moments to decide on a proper form of address before, finally, deciding on "... Harlot."

Kirche fought off a moment of powerful irritation, and the urge to just throw her hands up and call it quits right there.

"Believe it or not." she said. "I have come to apologize. I didn't quite... manage it, last time. I have besmirched your name, and done you ill, without true cause, and for that, I am... truly sorry."

"I'll believe that when I... see it? Am I seeing it? These eyes are mine, right maid?" Louise asks, uncertainly.

"I'm afraid they are, milady." Siesta replies, wearily.

"Oh. I guess. I don't have a choice then? What do you think, Wardes? Is this happening, or am I already asleep, and dreaming?"

"I will give you [i]such[/i] a pinch." Kirche warned, beginning to have some inkling of whatever the maid had been going through before her arrival. "But Louise, couldn't you... maybe put that thing away, or get rid of it, while we talk-"

"No! You can't [i]have[/i] him! I won't [i]let[/i] a Zerbst take my husband away from me!" Louise ranted, clutching the head protectively, hand moving dangerously close to her wand.

This entire stituation seems to be rapidly becoming too complex for Kirche to deal with. For the third and final time, she decides to press on, and not just give things up as a bad job and retreat.

"Easy, Louise. I'm not going to... take your husband away, if you feel so strongly about it. I'm sorry for bringing the matter up." Kirche says, warily. "But are you... feeling well?"

"... No. I'm not." Louise decides, after several long moments of consideration. "I'm tired. You're sorry?"

"Yes." Kirche answers, without hesitation.

Louise nods sleepily and, to no small degree, drunkenly. Then waves Kirche over. She is wary on the approach, of course, because there is still a [i]severed head[/i] just sitting there slack-jawed on a cushion, but even so it isn't quite enough to prevent her from being taken by surprise when Louise snatches and pulls, tugging at and tripping her onto the bed.

"Put those... gigantic cow udders of yours. To uses." Louise mumbles, before collapsing across Kirche.

She has only a moment to feel some offense and uncertainty before the snores begin.

"No, no, no, don't pass out [i]yet[/i] girl, you're just starting! Get some motorboarding in, get a good, solid, squeezy grip with either hand and-"

Derflinger is interrupted as Siesta deliberately and forcefully slams him all the way back into his sheath.

"... What a spoiled little brat." Kirche remarks, uncertain whether to be amused, annoyed, or horrified at the whole situation. She settles for a confused conglomeration of all three.

"Miss Louise has had a trying time of it." Siesta remarks. "I cannot give all the details, but... situations arose where she was forced to execute her own husband."

"Oh?" Kirche asked, not particularly interested.

"There was some affection between them, and it seems he continued to hold it for her right to the end."

[i]Now[/i] Kirche winces, as that is something entirely different from merely ending a marriage that might have had no love lost from either party.

"I truly cannot say any more than that. Please do not let her know it came from me... pretend she spoke of it in her sleep, or in a stupor? It shouldn't be difficult, she wailed about it the entire way across the college, I would be a bit surprised if nobody at all heard her."

"Yes, don't worry." Kirche sighed, resigning herself, for the moment, to her function as comforting warmth and softness, trying to ignore the steady, accusing stare of the thing resting only a few handspans away.

She groaned, after a moment, as something occured to her.

"She's drunk enough that she won't remember anything, will she. I'll have to go through the whole mess all over again, with the apology... I really should have just left."

"Maybe, maybe not. You can never tell. I don't believe miss Louise has been so heavily intoxicated before."

"Swell... hey! Don't leave, now!" She called, realizing that the maid had been taking slow, quiet steps toward the door.

"I apologize, young miss, but now that I have seen miss Louise safely to her bed, I have several chores I must attend to. If you will excuse me?"

"[i]You can't just[/i]... leave me here."

Kirche sighed, deeply, as the door closed, and tested Louise's grip. It was surprisingly strong, for her frame. And just at the moment, she seemed particularly insistent on not letting go.

No, it seemed like she was well and truly stuck here, for the moment.

... It wasn't like it was that terrible, though, after the initial shock of it passed. And once she put the [i]thing[/i] out of her mind. It gave her time to think. Even come to a decision. Third time was the charm. This time, she would do it [i]properly[/i].

She snapped her fingers, and the light winked out.

[i]Mother dearest,

I will be arriving soon, on temporary leave from the Academy.

I do miss home, with its hot spring, and the skilled fingers of artists of massage.

It has been too long, and hot baths and the clumsy efforts of distracted and over-eager young men cannot compare.

You will also be pleased.

I am following something of a family tradition, after a fashion.

I will be arriving with a Valliere.

You may expect us shortly.

With love from your daughter,

Kirche.

The Ardent.[/i]


	19. Chapter 19

Speculation is strongly approved of, yes. But, like I said, "You'll see".

Chapter Nineteen

Lightning crashed. It twisted. It writhed, and it crackled.

It did not take the form of man, or walk, and it did not speak or breathe. It did not think, and it did not reason, or fall into madness.

It was impossible to create a body double of lightning without, to some extent, becoming lightning yourself. But the best that one could do was to divide your attention between your two bodies, for lightning did not [i]think[/i] on its own, only moved, and seldom in the way which those who would use it desired.

"Killed." The lightning groaned. "Me."

She eyed it carefully, barely maintaining a body as the curling arcs of itself looped about itself, desperately fighting to explode outwards and scatter to the far winds, while at the same time being force to hold together.

"Fascinating." She observed, some actual interest present. "I cannot imagine that this is the result from [i]every[/i] mage who falls in battle before his double. An anomaly, some one-off event? Are you now some bizarre fluke of chance, I wonder, or is it simply that you contain too much raw willpower, still, to dissipate so readily, and when the last of it drains away, so too shall..."

"Killed. Me. Louise. I." The lightning rasps, forcing words to exist despite that no voice should be present to carry them.

"Well, for a failure, at least you have the opportunity of failing in a manner which brought interesting resu-"

Lightning does not think.

Lightning [i]strikes[/i]. And Sheffield had just, somehow, been caught completely by surprise, as it crashed into her and blasted her across the room to slam into the far wall.

"Fruit... knife. Fruit. Knife. [i]Fruit Knife[/i]!" The lightning howled.

"Unfortunate." She grunted. "Your mental state has obviously deteriorated. Interesting as studying you might be, I'll have to put you down-"

Lightning struck. And struck again, and again, at speeds that Sheffield was unprepared for, but should not have been, considering that her foe was a crackling mass of flashing electricity.

"I. Will. Not." The lightning groaned. "Louise. I will. Not. Louise. I won't. Die. That. Easily."

"You've had your time, now be a good boy, and [i]pass on[/i]-!" Sheffield snarled, rasising a wand to cast one of any number of spells that she, as the Mind of God, could use in her defense if times came to desperation.

Lightning flashed. No spells came. And it took a moment for Sheffield to comprehend that which she saw in the crackling mass of electricity. Two arms. That of Wardes... and her own, still gripping the handle of the wand she had drawn.

She feels something begin to drip down her side as, little by little, more and more of Wardes' form forced itself into existence, within the localized storm of electric pain.

Her other hand came up, not holding a wand, but a stone, glowing with inner light. Much of the room erupted in flame, centered on the gathering form, searing, blindingly bright and with fury like a volcano, compressed and nearly unimaginable power focused into a point drastically smaller than it was meant for, with the single, solitary purpose of burning one existence to [i]nothingness[/i].

The light faded, leaving deep burn scars in the stone. Sheffield took a moment to regret the loss of her arm, knowing that its replacement would be both difficult and expensive, but began to relax from the disposal of a being that was dangerous in several ways.

[i]And lightning struck.[/i]

Wardes' hand clamped down across her throat, eyes wild and frenzied, like those of a desperate beast, grievously wounded and trapped, fighting to find some way to live on.

"I. Am. Wardes."

Lightning struck.

[i]"The. Lightning. Bolt."[/i]

Wardes struck.

"I will. Not. Die. So. Easily."

Fingers stabbed, and clawed, ripping through and tearing away cloth as easily as the skin beneath as Sheffield struggled, trying to find some way, any way, not even to win by this point but to escape this all and survive. Jormungandr, powerful spells, Alviss, golems of any sort, if she could activate any sort of mystic item or artifact, if she could only [i]speak[/i]...

"I. Will not. Die. So. [i]Ignobly[/i]."

If she could only [i]breathe[/i].

"You. Killed. Me. Louise."

She [i]didn't[/i]. He's not even lucid at the moment.

"Louise."

Her vision is going dark, and her struggles are getting weaker.

"I. Still. Louise. Even. Now."

Electricity is pouring, cascading, through both of their bodies and she can no longer even feel pain as it pumps through her, into her, ruining her in many ways.

[i]"Let. Me. Show. You."[/i]

Lightning pulsed and flashed. And for the Mind of God, the world came to a sudden, abrupt, and painful end.

And lightning continued to strike. Some time passed, before Wardes looked down upon what he had wrought, with some measure of disgust. That ruined, battered, and violated mass of flesh, limply piled upon itself on the floor.

What had he done? What had he become? How was any of this even [i]possible[/i], he didn't know, but somehow he could smell the last lingering traces in this room of the terror of a womans death.

It was alluring.

It was outright [i]intoxicating[/i], more than the strongest drink, or the most potent opium. He delighted in it. Was disgusted by it. Luxuriated in it. Was horrified by it. [i]Craved[/i] it.

He needed [i]more[/i].

It hung the thickest about that twisted and broken pile of flesh, and for a brief time, it was [i]hunger[/i] that struck and moved Wardes' body without, he could almost convince himself, his consent.

Lightning [i]feasted[/i].


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Louise had not, of course, abstained entirely from any sort of alcoholic beverages, previously.

Even so, she was far from familiar with anything more serious than a mild sort of tipsiness, and neither did she expect the sort of drastic consequences that came with sudden binge drinking. The blinding mass of agony occupying the physical location of her brain was, as such, a complete surprise when she hooked her fingernails into consciousness and clawed her way up over the edge of the cliffs of slumber.

... She didn't at all remember her pillows being this soft. Or warm. Or breathing.

There's a grumbling groan, and the fog too-slowly clears as Louise shifts her gaze, and takes in the terribly amused and annoyed face of Kirche Augusta Frederica von Anhalt Zerbst.

"Good morning." Kirche said, followed by a slight quirk of her lips, turning a grin into a casual smirk. "... [i]Darling[/i]."

The horrified shriek that follows pierced the morning air, driving off songbirds, terribly startling a wolf, and waking more than a few students well before they would habitually and lazily rise from their beds.

Kirche's mood is much improved, though Louise has still not stopped sputtering and arguing and desperately denying even the possibility of anything having occured, and that she was drunk at the time so even if it had, it couldn't possibly count for anything and she could not be held accountable...

There is a looming presence of students, as Kirche half-guides half-shoves Louise into her seat, still insistent on voicing her every desperate thought for all to hear.

"... Something you want?" Kirche asked, dryly, eyeing the young man standing at the head of the pack with interest.

She couldn't recall his name.

She did, however, recall that he was one of her first casual romantic endeavours in the academy, and that he had suffered some personal humiliation when she had lost interest in him, before it had become apparent that a butterfly of flame would not remain in one place for long.

He straightened his back, stood tall, and spoke.

"Zerbst." He said, somberly. "I believe that I speak for a number of the young men present, when I say... that while we will, of course, regret that you will no longer grace us with your attention... that we are pleased that you have ceased, in the peasant vernacular, [i]beating around the bush[/i], as it were, and finally accepted and confessed your [i]true feelings[/i]."

"... What." Kirche said, flatly.

"You need no longer prevaricate, milady." He continued, boldly, pushing on and ignoring how Louise's face was growing redder and redder from mingled humiliation and fury. "It was quite clear to many, once one stopped to look, that your interest in the Z... in miss Valliere was more than [i]casual[/i], as you acted out through rather more [i]intense[/i] bickering than any of the rest of our peers, and made a point of so regularly and repeatedly affirming your more traditional interests, in the effort to drown out the... [i]fascination[/i], as it were, with the long-held familial nemesis. Happily, and regretfully, this will no longer be required."

"That isn't-! 

"We [i]didn't[/i]-!"

It isn't clear who said what, but they are both drowned out by the good natured approval of a number of students of both genders, all giving off the sense that they would enjoy, [i]very soon[/i], the next gossipy letters to home.

A young woman stepped forward.

Kirche didn't recall her name either, only that she had been an affectionate hanger-on of one of her early paramours, scorned once her interest in him became known. From how she behaved in the other leader of this little attack, they were most likely not strangers to one another.

This could not possibly have been planned out in advance, could it have? Just taking advantage of an unexpecte opening?

"I'm so [i]happy[/i] for you, Kirche~" She said, voice blatantly dripping with honeyed venom. "Why, [i]all[/i] the young maidens of the castle will simply be delighted to know you have [i]settled down[/i]~"

... It was beginning to occur to Kirche, as multiple other pairs of eyes throughout the crowd seemed to flicker with inner fire and cold smiles, that she may have accidentally made a number of little enemies. Even so, no amount of denial seemed to be turning things around.

The proper response was to answer an assault with a retaliatory assault. But just at the moment, she found that she was inexplicably unable to think of anything to say. And answering the accusations with fire was, of course, not the sort of thing to be done at breakfast. Physical attacks were right out.

That left her limited.

A Zerbst did not retreat. A [i]strategic withdrawal[/i], to lure in the unwary and prepare for a retaliatory assault, however, was acceptable.

As the crowd was pitched into a delighted standing ovation, Kirche grabbed up a bowl of fruit and glowered at two specific people.

'You will pay for this.' Her eyes promised.

'Perhaps.' Theirs answered. 'For now, though? Worth it.'

Louise, still confused and vaguely ill, and very much hung over, Kirche all but had to heave bodily up and throw over her shoulder to escape.

"My life." Louise declared flatly. "Is over."

"... You should have a slice of pear before your body catches up with your realization, then." Kirche decides, after a moment of thought. "I believe they are from the-"

"I don't care where the fruit came from." Louise snaps. She considers abstaining, if only to spite the other mage, but in the end nauseous hunger wins out. Light food was needed. And it was, in fact, quite good. "This is all [i]your[/i] fault, you know."

"I hardly think I can be held accountable for actions of others, which I was unprepared for, and which [i]clearly[/i] were targeted at and will inconvenience [i]me[/i], more than yourself."

"Inconvenience you? People will think we are [i]involved[/i] with one another!" Louise said, voice aghast and frustrated. "This is a [i]catastrophic[/i] turn of events for me, socially speaking. All [i]you[/i] have to worry about is that you might not be able to charm [i]all[/i] of the young men in the academy."

"Rotthilda and Julianos." Tabitha noted, claiming a number of grapes for her own as she flipped a page in her current novel.

"Yes, I think it [i]would[/i] be played something like that." Kirche noted, frown deepening. "It has the right sort of 'tragic romance between fueding families' feel to it. I can't think of a better literary parallel."

"They were independently executed by their liege lords under suspicion of feeling out the other side of the war for potential defection, hung by the neck until dead, and the flesh flayed from their bones, respectively. [i]Hardly[/i] a romantic tale, in any case."

"Hence the tragedy to the tragic romance."

"It doesn't matter. Nothing [i]happened[/i], and I have a headache, and I am going back to [i]bed[/i]." Louise said, with a note of finality to her voice.

"I imagine a hot bath might help." Kirche suggested.

"Perhaps so."

"A hot spring, naturally heated water that will not cool and have to be re-heated periodically as you soak, is far superior, you know. Did you think I brought you along, here, for no reason?"

"... The answer is no. To whatever it is. I don't care what." Louise said flatly, voice laden with suspicion.

"My. So immediate. I feel [i]rejected[/i]~" Kirche said, teasingly. "But in any case, you were quick enough to accept my apology last night, though you were... so [i]forceful[/i] in making me prove the sincerity of it~"

Louise's back went ramrod stiff, eyes wide and horrified, until Kirche broke out into laughter.

"For the most part, I jest. But the apology was genuine. And you seemed terribly out of sorts." She continued. "I would like to invite you along to a relaxing trip to a hot springs that I had planned. There will be a small detour, of course, along the way. Tabitha has been made aware of a request that she deal with a small matter at Ragdorian lake, and naturally I insisted on providing my assistance."

"And she will be coming along after as well, I suppose?" Louise grumbled, beginning to view this more and more as something of a very polite kidnapping.

"No. Monster hunt." Tabitha answered, turning another page.

"Yes, I believe that was an infestation of Red Caps, near the town of-"

"Unimportant." Tabitha said dismissively. "Will return to the Academy after, if no other matters arise."

"Then your suggestion, Zerbst, is that we venture to a secluded, one could say [i]romantic[/i], area away from the Academy, alone?" Louise said, slowly. "I begin to mistrust your displeasure with this morning's events. You are [i]aware[/i] how rumors will be fueled by this?"

"That, I do not doubt." Kirche admitted, annoyance crossing her features. "But consider it thus. If we remain, we might manage to convince others of the implausibility of these rumors. But it will be a difficult, frustrating, and long-fought battle. If, however, we leave, then it may lend confirmation to the rumors for a day or two, but without us present to stir them up, they will settle down on their own, and upon our return those prone to gossip will have moved on to other matters, out of sheer boredom if nothing else."

There must be something wrong with that logic. Through the still pulsing headache, however, Louise is hard pressed to think of exactly what it might be.

"I am hardly convinced-" She began, to be interrupted by a haggard Montmorency stalking down the path to them and purposefully placing her hands on the quiet picnic table.

"If you are traveling to Ragdorian Lake, I must insist I come along." She demands.

"Why." Tabitha rebuffs, before either of the others can consider their response.

"... My family has a history with the Water Spirit of that lake. I suddenly find myself... in rather urgent need for a counter-agent that can only be provided by that spirit.

"You have made a little error with your potions or herbcraft, I see?" Louise remarked.

"And you have adressed me without making childish insinuations of incontinence." Montmorency the Fragrance, [i]not[/i] the Flood, responded, bitingly. "There is, it seems, a first time for everything. But yes. Guiche has recently fallen ill, and I found myself attending to him... and while I do care for him, the opportunity to take a petty vengeance was too good to pass by. Nothing particularly harmful, of course, but perhaps a [i]touch[/i] of humility-"

"Spare me. What have you done, and how is it fixed?" Louise snapped, prompting Montmorency into a huff.

"There was a labeling error in certain vials, and a certain elixir which I kept only as a curiosity found its way into Guiche's meal by mistake." She continued, ignoring Louise's demand for her to cut directly to the point. "You will understand that the matter is being kept discreet, and his care is being handled by trustworthy individuals... who each individually owe me something of a favor, in the meantime?"

"Because it might be particularly troublesome if it got out that you had, accidentally of course, dosed de Gramont with this Elixir you have kept only for its intellectual value, and naturally not to [i]use[/i]..." Kirche said, smile widening.

"... [i]Quite[/i]." Montmorency answered through grit teeth, expression clearly shouting, in a sulky way, 'You cannot say for sure it was not an accident, and can in no way prove anything.'

It was left un-noticed that Tabitha had not turned a page in her book in some time, eyes focused, for the moment, elsewhere and in quiet thought and consideration.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Louise had a wolf. Tabitha had Sylphid. Montmorency's frog, and Kirche's salamander, however, were nowhere near the sort of size required for riding, and though Kirche was convinced that that might not be the case ten or fifteen years from now, in the case of her salamander, Montmorency's frog had little room for growth. And neither of them had taken Louise's approach of acquiring another sort of mount in the absence of their own familiar.

In theory, Rumia could carry one of them as she flew, but when it came time to decide who would take that option, it was discovered that they were all somehow uneasy about the prospect, though they couldn't say exactly why. But in any case, horses were still not an option, as the beasts would still begin to panic if the wolf was too near for too long.

They would do the same if Rumia were present, in point of fact. Probably wise of them.

But it should not be much of a concern, as both of the beasts present were capable of carrying double, and Rumia's flight did not seem to drain her at all, and so it was simply a matter of arrangement. Tabitha would, of course, ride Syliphid. And it would be something of a shame if the wolf became contrary and threw a rider off to savage on the way because Louise had not been there to keep it sternly in line. So, for those two, seating was already arranged.

The initial plan was for Montmorency to join Louise on the wolf, and Kirche to join her friend on the dragon.

Except Montmorency had not been pleased with this arrangement, for various reasons. Her stated one was the fact that she could not fully trust the beast, as it was not a familar of any sort, but sidelong looks stated plainly that while she might not be entirely convinced of the veracity of the sudden new spin of gossip regarding Kirche and Louise's relationship, she was keeping it strongly in mind, and the possibility made her somewhat uncomfortable as well.

She would not be reasoned with, and argued loud and long until Tabitha gave up in annoyance and Kirche decided to volunteer an example of Germanian Bravery by riding the savage beast. This left Montmorency joining Tabitha upon Sylphid in the sky, seating arrangements properly made to accomodate for two, and Louise uncomfortably feeling Kirche's significant assets press into her stiff back.

"This is surprisingly comfortable." Kirche notes along the way. "I would not have taken you for one to enjoy such simple hedonism as a cushioned seat~"

"Easier on wounds." Louise grunted, unwilling to say more, or be drawn further into conversation. It was apparently not a deterrent for the fire mage, as she was apparently used to far less responsiveness from Tabitha.

They made excellent time. By the end of the day, they had reached a distance that would have taken a troupe of foot bound vagrants or soldiers several, and quietly stopped at a rustic inn at a small hamlet to plan the entrance into Gallia. The lake was not far beyond the border, but it was firmly in Gallian territory, and so some care would have to be taken, to ensure they were not taken for miscreants planning something untoward upon entering the country.

More importantly, they had to stop for a meal. Montmorency was not pleased with the common fare, a weak sort of ale and a meat stew, and only gave in and partook once it became quite clear that there was no possible way to get anything better, as the peasants could not possibly have hidden away fine wines and cuts of the choicest and most expensive meats in preparation for their arrival. Even so, she picked at it, and was the last to finish, eating only half of her portion before turning her nose up at it and offering the bowl to Rumia, who made the contents disappear in what seemed like an eyeblink. Tabitha ate slowly, but methodically, not seeming to take particular pleasure in the meal, but not showing any disgust in it, either.

Kirche and Louise set upon their meal like ravenous hounds, neither noticing the similarity of their dispensation with high-class etiquette in the face of hunger, their surroundings, and practicality until Montmorency pointed it out, very mild offense clear in her tone, seeming affronted that they did not consider her important enough to eat properly in her presence, even if there was not a single noble in the room aside from those seated at their table.

"It was, um, our honor to serve you, miladies." The serving girl said, wide eyed. It seemed that nobility did not often pass through this little hamlet. "The meal is, of course... free of charge? With compliments of the staff. Though, um... if I can request... Can you tell a tale or two? Of the sort of things those with magic..."

"Is it the place of nobles to provide entertainment for the plebians, now?" Montmorency said, with a sniff.

It wasn't that Louise disagreed with the sentiment, in theory.

But on the other hand, Montmorency had been making an annoyance of herself all day, and Louise was more than in a mood to poke her in the eye, figuratively or otherwise.

"It isn't as though we cannot pay in coin." She said in response. "But simply talking is little enough of a thing, in exchange for a meal... and roof for the night?"

"But of course, milady." The girl replied eagerly.

"Logical." Was all Tabitha had to say about it, and Kirche nodded, mouthful of a heavy, doughy roll preventing speech.

Outvoted three to one, Montmorency frowned, but grumblingly agreed.

"Shall I regale the peasantry, then, of the intricate and intimate details of alchemical mixtures and the mystic effects of this herb, when mixed into that tincture?" She said, annoyance flavoring her tone.

"No need." Tabitha answered quietly.

She placed a marker, and closed her book, before carefully setting it away. Kirche blinked, and swallowed her roll.

"Oh! This should be good. Tabitha is always reading, so of course she'll be able to tell the best stories..." Kirche said, leaning forward a bit in interest.

Tabitha ignored her, lost in thought for a moment before nodding. As she spoke, her voice took up tone and inflection that was mostly absent in normal conversation.

"There once was a mage, on a journey, riding a fine white stallion." She began.

"Expensive." Montmorency notes in approval. "Assuming that his was pure white, and not just an exaggeration for poetic license."

"But the journey was long, and both the mage and the steed had cause to hunger. And so they came to a stop along the way, to rest and to feed themselves. It was poorly chosen, though, for as they ate, the local conversation showed that the village was beset by a monster, which demanded tribute. Calls to the lord had gone out for aid, and been left unanswered, as focus remained upon a more widespread group of slavers operating throughout the land."

"Well, that-" Montmorency began.

"Ssh." Kirche interrupted.

"The mage considered, and decided. There had previously been a battle which had nearly been lost, through trickery and deceit. Slaying the monster would prove an agreeable, and educational, challenge. And, in no small part, would salve the mage's wounded pride. But on arrival, the truth was discovered. The tribute demand had not been sent by a monster, but by an outpost of the slavers, a number of men led by a powerful mage of their own."

"And then?" Louise asked, interested enough in the tale.

"... And then, when battle was ready to be joined, the true monster, having heard that its appearance had been used for another's ends, arrived and fell upon the slavers. But fortune prevailed in their case, as the monster was merely the body. The mind was that of a man, who had seen his death coming in disease and, through desperation, enacted forbidden and powerful Water magics to transplant himself into the body of a monster rampaging in the nearby countryside. It was a painful endeavor, as the body rejected the foreign and human mind, and he was wracked with splitting pain of the skull from time to time. But his control was sufficient to only maim the mage of the slavers, and the journeying mage took them into custody, to be chained and delivered to the lord, where they would await trial for their crimes."

"A happy ending." Montmorency decided, seeming interested most of all in the mention of the Forbidden and Powerful water magic. As a water mage herself, though, such was only to be expected, and after consideration, Louise decided it was no cause for alarm.

"If the tale ended there, yes." Tabitha agreed. "The journeying mage returned, however, to pay a visit and speak further with the mage in the body of a monster. The arrival was unexpected, but the monstrous mage welcomed the visitor, only pausing to warn them away from a portion of the cave which was dangerous. This struck the journeying mage as odd, for though their grasp of the magics of earth was weak, there was sufficient ability to tell that the cavern was quite sound, and even were it not, the monstrous mage had enough ability to support any weak points. There was, however, something buried in that place. And so, of curiosity, and while the monstrous mage was distracted with another matter, the journeying mage went and dug in that spot."

"... What did they find there, milady?" the serving girl asked, and a quick glance revealed that very little of the rest of the room was, by this point, feigning not to be listening to the story.

"What they found there? Bones." Was Tabitha's morbid reply. "Fresh, and though in most cases they were stripped of flesh, there were traces which remained, not entirely rotten away. They had been buried recently. As the mage came to this realization, the monster blocked the exit to the cavern. Perhaps it was that the body had not been rejecting the mage's mind, but changing it, or perhaps it was that the mind had slowly been changing itself, to match the body. It mattered little, either way, for the end result was the same. The more time passed, the closer the monstrous mage became to a simple monster, which happened to be able to use magic."

Tabitha tood a moment to rest her voice, sipping at the last of the weak ale.

"The mage and the monster fought." She said, finality in her voice, details of the battle absent. "And the monster died, and the mage burned the body so thoroughly that there was scarcely any ash remaining to scatter to the wind. And then the mage rode on, continuing to their destination with no further stops."

"... Well, that's hardly an ending." Montmorency said, disgruntled, as Tabitha returned her attention to her book. The scattered applause, however, showed that while she wasn't alone in that opinion, there were more than one or two which disagreed.

"I think it's a fine ending to the story." Kirche argued. "Not a happy one, perhaps. But then, you were hardly promised a happy ending, were you?"

Montmorency sniffed, and Louise looked somberly into the bottom of her ale, mind on the one, carefully secured and sealed satchel that she had brought, finding herself unable, somehow, to leave... it behind. No happy endings. Wasn't that the truth.

When they retired for slumber, Louise dreamed of a valiant mage of more than a passing resemblance to the late Wardes, gallantly riding a charging white stallion into battle against a monstrous beast which was never quite the same twice, from eyeblink to eyeblink.

The hunger was manageable. But at the same time, it was all but unbearable, Wardes reflected to himself as he floated above the ground of Albion.

No spell! No expression of willpower to change the world such that one could fly, simply the active desire to move through the air rather than across the dirt... and that desire was made manifest. Though he knew hunger, in ways that he never had before, through the most strenuous campaigns of battle, and the most intense of grueling training, he never seemed to grow tired. One might consider it a fair trade for a belly that never seemed quite full, no matter what it was filled with, and new, strange cravings, that he could not find the strength to fight indefinitely.

He did not feel in control of himself. Not fully, with the aching need to inflict terror and death in his wake, fueling the nightmares of those he did not end...

He would be hunted. He knew that he would be hunted, that preying upon the commoners in the way that he was could not be tolerated forever, was only endured by the fact that Cromwell had siezed victory and thence immediately gone about his way to immediately and eagerly prove himself worse by far than the Monarchy had been, as he placed himself at the head of the group of nobles which had participated in the Coup and were now the ruling party in Albion, as a king in all but name. He did not care that something was preying upon his property, his chattel. Not yet, not until the effects began to reach him, and someone set him down to carefully explain that clean lavatories and fine wines didn't just happen, peasants were needed to do the gruntwork.

He knew full well that it would be wise to continue preying upon those he could find, when an opportunity arose. That it would be best to act as he would have before his death, and slip out of sight until the opportune moment to strike came again. Knew, intellectually, that it was not impossible that there was someone or something that would take offense to his actions, and prove themself more than his match, and be his end in truth. It was not wise.

But he could not stop himself. Could not control himself, or the part of himself which considered the rational, logical thought, that feared an opponent that might arise, and which said 'I'll believe they exist when we find them'. Once or twice, perhaps three times, he would see an opportunity and manage to painfully let it pass, to ignore the protestations of his craving need. But he was discovering he was not strong enough. That he could not, every time, keep himself in line, and that loss of control... it was more than abhorrent, though the result was mingled disgust and ecstasy.

Wardes hated himself. He hated what he had become. And he loved every moment of his existence with every fiber of his being. It was both difficult beyond measure and simplicity itself to reconcile the two.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Louise slept. Kirche slept. Montmorency slept, fitfully, and after complaining that the heavy wool beding was scratchy and uncomfortable, nothing like her silk sheets.

Tabitha was wide awake.

"Heee~eey..." Rumia called softly from her position on the ceiling, broken from her casual contemplation of Louise's slumbering face by the new entry to the room. "What are you doing, here?"

"Peace, familiar." Tabitha says, raising a hand. "Came to speak."

"Is that [i]so[/i]...~"

"Not with you." Tabitha corrects, and turns instead to inspect the sword leaning against a wall. "You. I have heard you speak. And I have heard others mention hearing you speak. We will talk, now."

Rumia hmm's in vague disinterest at the decision, before returning her attention to Louise's face as a strange expression crosses it for a moment, before returning to the neutrality of slumber. Derflinger, for his part, rattles his crossguard a bit in recognition.

"So? You've found me out. It's no huge secret, though, the old man's known almost from when I was first brought into the academy." He pointed out.

"Irrelevant. What are you?" Tabitha exacts. "Results of study... inconclusive."

"Well, if you need help with that, you might want to see a healer about your eyes, girl..."

"Sword. Obvious." Tabitha says, flattly. "Animate, conscious sword. Spirit blade. Question: which?"

Derflinger thought for a moment before answering, considering the mage before him before he spoke.

"I." He said, with a grave sense of ceremony. "Am [i]Derflinger[/i]."

"... Name is unfamiliar." Tabitha replies after a moment's thought to check her memory of the research. Derflinger isn't quite certain whether he should feel relieved or annoyed about that. "Name of user?"

"You know? I'm afraid I can't remember that myself." The sword half-lied, bluffing without a moment's hesitation. "Been a long time since I was first forged and all. Memory just goes after a while, it's like a thing with holes in to let stuff slip through."

"Sieve."

"Wouldn't say that right off. Could be a bag that needs mending, badly." Derflinger pointed out.

Tabitha waves a hand, a bit annoyed at the lack of information this is bringing.

"Next question. Why?" She asks, seriously.

"... You're going to have to clarify that one a bit, girl."

"Why... in general. What are your plans. Why are you here. Why Louise."

"Oh? Could have said that from the start. I'm a sword. So, until I can't any more, I'll be serving as hers."

"... That is all?"

"It's right. Tools are made to be used, and all that. It isn't as though I have some grand, overarching plan for all this, or anything. Though I'll admit, I'd prefer if she learned how to use me properly a bit faster. Can't have everything, though."

"And from this. What do you get, in return?"

"What I get? I get to stop being bored, for a while. I'm a sword, after all. This might not be quite as much constant excitement as I would prefer, but at the least, it's far better than being stuck in a barrel for another few decades before someone shells out for me, staring at the same room all day of every day. It isn't like I can just get up and walk out of there on my own."

"Not so." Rumia interrupts, glowing red eyes turned to them once more as she places herself in the conversation, floating down. "When things get very old... they can learn to live on their own. Move on their own. Become Tsukumogami, a Youkai. If they want. This is well known, is that not so?"

Tabitha frowns, and doesn't say anything, considering this. It's Derflinger who answers, after a moment of thought

"Well, can't say the idea doesn't have its appeals." He says. "You know how I'd do something like that?"

"... You do not know?" Rumia says, tone puzzled, as a faint smell of burnt hair began to float through the room. Louise's nose wrinkled at it in her sleep. "I... do not know. It... happens. The umbrella was not so clear on how."

"Ah. Well, shame, but I don't know how I'd start doing something like that." Derflinger says in response. "For now, I'll have to stick with letting other people carry me around. Still better than being bored out of my pommel."

"Relief of boredom... it seems to be a stronger concern for those that exist longer." Tabitha muses.

"That is so~" Rumia agrees, floating back up to the ceiling and resuming her silent and eerily intense vigil.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The problem with crossing the border was that doing so [i]officially[/i] would require a check in for several hours at an official border crossing, in order to be cleared for travel.

It was decided, over breakfast, that it would be far preferable to simply avoid the whole matter and cross over several miles off the actual road. A common enough tactic, to avoid such trouble, for whichever reason. You couldn't drag a caravan off the actual roads, and expect to make any decent time, but as long as you were just on foot, mounted, or flying, it was less of a concern.

Unless you ran into one of the infrequent border patrols.

As it turned out, the group of mages would have been wiser to set off either an hour earlier or an hour later than they had, in which case they would have slipped through without any note. Rather than, as had actually happened, running directly into the current patrol. Surrender was the only real choice to make, as attempting to fight or flee capture at that point would have been unthinkable.

As it also turned out, while the check-in would have lasted all morning, clearing up the confusion of being dragged into the border crossing by their ears, and arguing their case as best they could, found itself taking up the entire day. And at the end of it, none of them were so skilled an orator as to avoid the levying of a small fine. Not much, for nobles, though it would be something of a catastrophe for a penniless vagrant. In their case, however, it was just a slap on the wrist. Less of a warning not to do it again, and more that they shouldn't be [i]caught[/i] doing it again.

The end result was that, while the Lake wasn't much further off, after the border, there was a quick conversation as the sun set that left them all borrowing residence in spare quarters for the night, if only to silence Montmorency's complaints about possibly having to ride through, and contact the water spirit in, the dead of night.

Rumia saw no concern with the option, and Louise would have gone on just as easily, but having to restrain and carry Montmorency along would have been, for one, far more trouble than she was worth, and for another would likely render her less pleasant to deal with when the time came to contact the spirit.

They set off a little late in the morning. Again, and with a silent agreement that they would not discuss the slight accident of the previous day. It wasn't far to the Lake, and the wolf came to a loping halt next to the new, flooded shoreline as Sylphid landed slightly off.

"... About time." Montmorency grumbled to herself, stepping carefully down from the dragon.

"Flooding has advanced. Further than reports indicated." Tabitha noted slowly, measuring the distance of dying, drowned grass beneath the waters, from the furthest edge to where the highest point of the shore once was.

"That is why you are here, is it not? Details on [i]that[/i] part of things are not any of my concern." Montmorency sniffed. "Be patient. I will alert the Water spirit to my presence, now, to request a meeting."

The frog she had summoned wriggled its way free of her pocket to wait patiently as she withdrew a small, sharp knife. It took only a press and a twitch to carve a small line into her fingertip, and she pressed it gently into the frog's back, allowing it to freely bleed and gather in red droplets before pulling the digit away. Prepared with its message, the frog leapt into the waters and swam rapidly into the depths as she put the fingertip into her mouth, fishing for a small patch of cloth to bind it with.

Only a few moments passed before the frog croaked and leapt its way back out of the waters. Some distance away, there was a slight bubbling, which increased to a roiling heave upwards as a portion of the lake waters themselves took on defined shape and form.

Montmorency's, to be precise. Entirely devoid of any sort of clothing. The noble in question went a little red at the sight, but gathered her composure as she rose and spoke.

"Grand Water Spirit of Ragdorian Lake." She spoke, seriously and carefully. "On this day, at this time, I, Montmorency of Montmorency have come to beg of you a boon. This humble alchemist begs of you a single tear."

[b]"Denied."[/b] The waters spoke coolly.

"I request that you return the waters to their original state." Tabitha tried, seeming hopeful but not counting on this working out.

[b]"Also denied. I will no sooner give up a portion of my Self upon request than you might happily gift another of your kind a spare finger. Neither will I cease expanding the lake. To locate that which is lost, I will flood all of this world, if need comes to it."[/b]

"... well, this is going to be a problem." Montmorency said, very quietly, not seeming to have thought far enough to devise an alternate plan in case the spirit said no.

Tabitha's grip on her staff shifted, and Kirche looked vaguely uncertain but more than ready to turn her wand to bear. Deal with it, Tabitha had said, hadn't she? Louise recalled that very clearly. There was obviously some latitude in the order, enough to attempt a peaceful resolution with words, it seemed, but if that failed...

Louise wasn't certain all of them together could match the Water Spirit. In fact, she doubted it. What she wasn't certain of was whether Montmorency would assist in the battle, given her family's History with the spirit.

Actually, she doubted that, too. Probably a safe bet she wouldn't, even.

What she did know, however, was that she [i]very much did not want[/i] to fight the Spirit unless there was no other choice.

She spoke.

This spirit.

It was pretty obviously a Youkai. By another name, anyway, but if Rumia was capable of a little more thought she would have allowed that the word itself was pretty much just a catch-all term for any number of supernatural creatures and beings, and there wasn't actually a specific species, type, or variation that could call themselves, specifically, Youkai, and prevent all others from laying true claim to the name.

But yeah. A youkai, even though the little Master didn't know what the word meant.

It was probably pretty interesting, she noted. Definitely an odd chat. Nobody had tried to attack [i]anyone[/i] yet, it was like this Spirit didn't want to eat any of them at all. Maybe it didn't. Her loss.

Mostly.

No, that wouldn't be good either, the others weren't important, but she couldn't let the little Master be eaten, right?

She couldn't eat her herself, either.

Well, that didn't matter, though. Or what happened to the others, if anything did, or didn't.

But the little Master couldn't be eaten. The little master belonged to [i]her[/i]. Even if she couldn't, now, she was the only one who had the [i]right[/i]...

Something about the conversation was naggling at her attention, though.

Talking had turned to negotiation. Bartering. An agreement of some kind.

... [i]this was bad.[/i]

It took her a moment to recall [i]why[/i] it was bad, beyond the blinding moment of realization, and with the Ribbon doing its best to prevent her from reasoning things out that far, but she was already in motion by then. Had to stop it. Promises and agreements and arrangements between humans and humans weren't important. But with Youkai, of any sort, whether by that name or not...

Important. Dangerous. Can't be broken, but even to try, was, and... The water thing could take the little Master away from her. Better, or worse, could use a promise or agreement to control [i]her[/i], through the little Master, as much as was possible.

Which wasn't really very far.

But it was still intolerable.

Just moving physically through the world wasn't enough. She had to be there [i]right now[/i].

The shadows, her own orb and another's form, beckoned helpfully and formed a door, crossing the distance in an instant.

And just before Louise could agree to willingness to perform favors for these little favors in turn, Rumia took hold of her from behind, and shoved as many fingers as she could in her mouth, glowering at the water thing as the little Master bit down, startled. The sharp pain was unimportant, though Rumia would have to remind herself to make some kind of little reckoning for that later, if she could recall.

"Promise [i]nothing[/i]." She hissed, gaze locked with the amused and annoyed water spirit.

[b]"Ho... and what is this?"[/b] the lake spoke. [b]"Little patch of night sky, bound and chained, hobbled and branded. Broken-winged bird and broken-legged hound, toothless serpent and scorpion with no sting. You stand before me now? You will interfere? Do you think that you could protect the little newborn kitten of a mage, eyes shut to the world around her, if I wished harm? A favor for a favor is fair, as it has always been. Action for a promise, which cannot be broken. Stand aside."[/b]

"I will not." Rumia said, not even taking the time to form a veil of darkness around herself, form displayed more clearly than the other students, or Louise herself, had ever seen it. Not that the latter was in much of a position to appreciate this, as she complained as best she could through her mouthful of Rumia's fingers, pinching her tongue in place.

[b]"Such as you are, crippled and broken, will stand before me? Will interfere with my discussion, will prevent a Deal from being struck?"[/b] The lake said, warningly, last traces of amusement gone from its tone.

"That is so."

A tidal wave crashed down in a fit of pique, on the place Rumia and Louise had just occupied as the first fell backwards with the second through a shadow which disappeared as they found themselves elsewhere, and Rumia shoved her little Master aside and out of the way, as battle was rejoined.

[b]"The curse upon thy brow has addled your wits further than might be dreamt."[/b] The lake mocked, surface now roiling with activity, rising up and crashing against itself as would a turbulent sea in the midst of a storm. [b]"With no plan, and devoid of thought, I shall tear thee asunder and spread the motes of thy shadow across the night sky once more, not to bind together with form or being for a thousand years hence."[/b]

Rumia's hand rose, instinctively, only to lock up a little distance away from the ribbon, sparks flying in warning. Then, without further words, she attacked.

Danmaku was well and good.

Bullet games were even fun.

But even the Miko would admit that they were only [i]required[/i] in duels between a Youkai and a Human. All else was at the discretion of the battlers.

And so they fought as Youkai. As incarnations of the night sky and the shadow beneath leaves and the darkness beneath the earth, and as the falling rain and the crashing surf and the still waters with undercurrents which would take hold of the unwary and drag them fathoms out and deep.

The lake tore darkness apart, spreading it flowing outwards and through its waters, and darkness fell upon the surface of the lake, rending and deforming it, tainting its depths with the places where the light of the sun could not see. Neither could destroy, taint, consume or subsume the other quite fast enough to finish the battle decisively.

[b]"I will drown you."[/b] the lake promised, dragging Rumia down beneath its surface, but not to the deepest of its depths, where her power could only grow.

"I will [i]drink[/i] you." Rumia promised in turn, words escaping in bubbles through a wide and ecstatic grin, as the Lake was given, for a moment, pause.

Rumia swallowed.

And Rumia continued to swallow, drawing everything that would flow into the yawning void of her stomach to herself, greedily sucking up the water about herself, and anything caught in its currents. Fish. A serpent. Broken bits of wood, and muck not yet settled from the disruption of the lakes stillness, floating free in the lake. Bits of herself, rent free and left scattered. Bits of the Spirit, similarly sundered. All, she drew to herself and consumed.

The lake cast her out, after only a few moments, not knowing how long such an attempt could be sustained, but not willing to risk the matter, even against a broken-winged bird and a toothless serpent.

[b]"Enough! Only ruin can be brought in the wake of this."[/b]

"Perhaps that is so...~" Rumia said, eyes flashing.

Her tone clearly said the truth of it, that she did not [i]care[/i].

[b]"Enough. My terms are this. I will restore the lake. I will give of you a piece of my Self, one which has been torn loose in this struggle. In turn you, little patch of night sky, will leave, and neither you nor the one who grasps your bindings without understanding that which she holds will return without that which has been lost, on pain of destruction which I will [i]not[/i], this time, forestall. The Ring of Andvari. There will be no further [i]negotiation[/i].[/b]

"... Acceptable." Tabitha said hintingly, staring at Louise, knuckles white about her staff. Montmorency and Kirche could not, just at the moment, bring themselves to speak, but it was Louise at whom the Spirit's level and icy gaze was focused.

"This is acceptable." Louise repeated, and Rumia's darkness slowly gathered back around herself, deliberately displaying how disgruntled she was with this disappointment of an outcome to the battle.

[b]"Then so shall it be. And know this, newborn kitten of a mage. The actions of a Familiar are considered the actions of the Mage. So shall I consider them. You have, this day... made an enemy."[/b]

Louise bit her tongue to prevent herself from saying anything as a small orb of water floated up from the lake, hovering in place until Montmorency proffered a crystal vial to hold it, which she corked after it poured itself inside. Then the spirit sank, slowly, back into the lake, eyes focused on Louise the entire time, as the surface became still once more and began to recede.

"... Barbarian girl. Hah. I [i]told[/i] them all." Louise said, slightly manically.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

It was Kirche, when it came down to it, who suggested that they take a detour to a nearby village and have a little break. Tabitha, at the moment, hadn't seemed capable of letting go of her staff, eyes alternating between focus on Rumia and the surface of the lake, like a fox trapped in a tunnel with a boar on one end and a bear on the other, uncertain which to dart past. Montmorency was quietly holding the vial containing what the Germanian suspected contained a significantly larger amount of 'tears' than might normally be offered, mouth forming words but not quite managing to voice them. Kirche wasn't good at reading lips, but a number of those words seemed to involve money, or rare potions. Louise was still laughing to herself, only now clutching a sealed sack to her chest.

The wolf was quietly hiding behind Sylphid, tail between its legs.

As such, it fell to her to be the voice of maturity and reason in the face of everyone else falling apart for a moment. It was a situation which was entirely unfamiliar to her, and she didn't really like it much. But such was life. Best that she usher people along before the Water Spirit decided they were taking too long to go away, and decided to lend its own assistance.

The nearest village, however, on this side of the border at least, was a good distance further in. But it was, at the least, well away from the lake, and the trip gave everyone enough time to relax.

"I don't [i]know[/i] what she is." Louise grumbled. "I only know what I've known all along, what she [i]isn't[/i]. Human."

"Dangerous." Tabitha muttered, but didn't seem willing to press any further than that.

"You can't not [i]know[/i] what..." Montmorency begins, then shakes her head. "You don't even have any guesses? A bizarre set of abilities like that... Vampire, maybe?"

"No chance. Vampires subsist entirely on blood, and are understood have a finite limit to how much blood they can drink at once. Certainly enough to kill a human. But while a desperate one might prey on a cow, it could certainly not drain the entirety of its blood, much less devour the beast in its entirety." Louise replied, wearily explaining things she had already long determined. "As Rumia [i]has[/i]. Still, her focus seems to be on the consumption of flesh over blood, though she does not spare either, and if she [i]were[/i] a vampire I would hardly have been giving her such relatively free reign."

"... Of course not." Montmorency says, after a moment's considering pause too long for Louise's comfort. "But that leaves... very little that I am aware of, which could explain what exactly she..."

"She could be a spirit, like the one in the lake." Kirche notes thoughtfully, as both Montmorency and Louise's backs go ramrod stiff. "She definitely seemed to match up fairly evenly-"

"That [i]can't[/i] be." Montmorency insisted, seeming horrified at the very thought. "Elemental Spirits are... they're ancient and almost sacred beings, have existed since before the birth of the Founder himself. To watch a battle with such a thing was enough, to think that one could be... summoned and bound, just like any simple animal, is just..."

There's something in her voice that leaves the implication that she is less concerned with the possibility of the thing than she is with the possibility that [i]Louise[/i], of all people, had done it. Louise doesn't miss this, and she scowls for a moment.

"... Besides. It's hardly a good match up. Spirits of water. Spirits of mist and fog, mingling air and water, and spirits of ice. Spirits of earth and stone and steel and even mud. Spirits of fire, spirits of white hot earth flowing like water, spirits of wind and of storms, I could see and understand any of those." Montmorency says. "But what place in the elemental design does a spirit of [i]darkness[/i] have, what could [i]that[/i] mean about one's element?"

Kirche thinks for a moment, then opens her mouth, only to be silenced by a sharp look from Tabitha.

"Does it matter?" Louise grumbled flatly, back stiff from the, in certain lights, justifiable shot at her magical nature and ability.

"... I don't mean any offense." Montmorency said, tone as placating as she could while at the same time implying that she may not have meant it, but she wasn't sorry about it. "But, a spirit is... that's just something unbelievable. But a lot of what we've seen was... still. Tears of the Water Spirit are one of the most potent magical restoratives in existence, and are a vital component to dozens, possibly hundreds, of rare and valuable elixirs, many of which healers would happily trade an arm and a leg for, because they are secure in the knowledge that they can be grown back with just a sip! Alarming as the thought is, there are lesser known properties towards fragments of other spiritual beings, if you were to test portions of her blood or hair with alchemical reagents for responses-"

"Were you so eager to consider using your own familiar for potions ingredients?" Louise asked flatly.

"Robin? Of course." Montmorency answered without hesitation. "He sweats a mild toxin with hallucinogenic properties. Very mild. Skin contact, or brief exposure to a wound isn't enough to cause an effect, it would have to be concentrated several times for any appreciable effect, unaltered. Effect on a human, anyway. It would naturally discourage predation, to some degree, in the wild. It can be used as a catalyst for more than a few brews, however. As for the rest, though, any frog or toad plucked out of a pond would be as suitable-"

"Fascinating." Louise interrupted. "If you are certain you wish to discuss the matter with my Familiar directly...?"

Montmorency ground to a halt as she slowly considered this, coupled with old tales which suggested that not only had the family not exactly arrived at a suitable arrangement with the Water Spirit on the first try, but that it had in fact taken more than a few attempts, and family members, to reach the state where things had remained until now.

"... I would hardly be a suitable one to perform such tests." She dissembled hastily. "Merely something to be brought to your attention, in the incredibly unlikely event that your familiar [i]is[/i] something similar to a spirit."

There's more to speak of, of course, and the Ribbon is at the forefront of everyone's minds, imagination running with the question of what the 'curse' is, and why it was there. Somehow, however, nobody manages to bring the matter up, and discussion ends with Montmorency deciding that she can brew an antidote easily enough in the morning, with what materials were available, and it wouldn't take long enough to delay travel too much.

She would have to retire early to rise early, however, and so dinner would have to be requested early.

She was, of course, the first one to rise when the time came, bound by her own word and an eagerness to leave uncomfortable sheets behind more swiftly.

But it was not much longer before the rest awoke to the noisy clatter and tumult of metal hooves and wheels sparking against cobbles.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

"Keep him away!" Montmorency hissed, having co-opted a large section of the kitchens to prepare a bubbling brew. "Don't [i]hurt[/i] him, but... don't let him get past you either."

"Tall order." Kirche remarked, peering through a window to where Guiche was seated in an inactive golem chariot. "Didn't you say he wouldn't be able to go anywhere?"

"Well, I thought he wouldn't, obviously!"

"Shouldn't." Tabitha comments, frowning as Guiche called out for 'his beautiful love' to come to his arms. But did not, in fact, rise from his seat.

It clicked, in Louise's head, just what sort of a rare, valuable, and forbidden potion a budding alchemist might have, even just for study purposes.

"You dosed him with a [i]love potion[/i]?" She hissed softly.

"Accidentally! It was supposed to be a powerful [i]laxative[/i]! I'm [i]petty[/i] and [i]vindictive[/i], but I'm not [i]stupid[/i]!" Montmorency hissed back, even as she measured out the barest, tiniest pinch of something from a small pot.

Louise groaned, not sure what she should do about it. Accidents were accidents, but using a love potion on nobility was... it was definitely the height of illegality.

... it niggled at her, a little bit, how she couldn't recall anything mentioned of using such things on commoners. Was it at the discretion of the magistrate available, rather than a widespread and well understood...? No, never mind.

Guiche's calls had grown more intense and desperate. Louise sighed and stepped out, prepared to stop the lovestruck fool from doing himself an injury.

"Louise..." Guiche said, breathing deeply in his seat, slight sheen of sweat on his face from the effort of travel.

"Guiche. Stand down and wait patiently." Louise ordered. "We have collected the ingredients, and are even now preparing the antidote to your... ills."

Guiche did not seem to comprehend what she was saying, blinking slowly before he spoke again.

"Louise. You stand in the way. Of my quest for Love?" He croaked.

"If I have to tie you up and have someone sit on you, yes." Louise admitted. "The brewing can't be interrupted right now."

"... I see. So be it. A rose blooms for the sake of all, but a rose bears thorns that will prick the unwary." Guiche replied, mournfully.

"Your golems aren't going to be enough, Guiche. Even if I couldn't blast them apart like paper, I'm not the only one waiting here."

"I know. But thank you." He said, shaking his head. "You have given me the gift, Louise, of imagination. [i]Valkyrie. Armor.[/i]"

His final words were an incantation, and Louise was caught slightly by surprise as metal formed, not into a free-standing golem, but about his own limbs and body.

He stood from the chair, sword and shield forming in his hands.

It was impressive, she supposed, how even with his body in the state it was, he could stand at all...

No, no that wasn't it.

"You aren't moving your body. You are manipulating the armor, all of the mass of bronze, and your body is moving just as a side effect." She realized aloud.

Guiche's answer was to bring down the sword in the place she had been standing.

Louise's wand rose, and then wavered. With a technique like that, and in these conditions...

That bastard. He was holding [i]himself[/i] hostage? Could she even afford to attack? Or... could Kirche and Tabitha, now leaving the inn themselves, even? Burning and overheating the metal encasing him. Piercing it with lances of ice, and sundering it with wind. Blasting it apart with her own explosions.

If this was someone they could just kill, it wouldn't even be a problem. But containing Guiche, without harming him...

It was going to be hard, to say the least.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

"Stand down Guiche." Kirche called, even as hairs on the back of Louise's neck began to rise in warning.

Guiche was standing... too still. His lips were moving, he was whispering something. Where...

"We don't want to hurt you." Kirche continued, gathering a trace of fire at the tip of her wand, even as... _there_.

Too late, as the arm of a Valkyrie formed, revealing itself as it lunged from the ground, sword-point first. Kirche barely had the time to drag her wand in the right direction and start moving before it had already pierced her thigh.

She let loose a strangled scream as the blade withdrew, and rose again as she clutched at the bleeding wound, wand for just a critical moment forgotten.

Tabitha heaved her out of the way of the strike with strength belying her slight form, and Louise blasted the golem apart. Then just barely drew Derflinger in time to be grateful that the young nobleman wasn't really any better of a swordsman than herself, as a bronze blade clanged down against him.

"Y'know, I like you, boy. Be a shame if I had to tickle your guts. Of course, I'm a sword, it's what I _do_, so no hard feelings, right?"

Guiche grunted, pressing down a little harder, and Louise felt her knees start to buckle for a moment before Tabitha's voice rang out and Guiche floated up and away. Tabitha's wand remained focused on him as Louise took a deep breath, regaining her footing, and Kirche quickly bound her wound before raising her own wand, anger burning in her eyes.

... Louise's neck began to itch, and seeing the slight smile on Guiche's face, she was ducking before Derflinger had a chance to call out the warning. Kirche was ready this time, and melted both the one ambushing herself and the one targeting Tabitha into slag in the time it took Louise to blast her own assailant apart.

Guiche was still smiling.

... How many was he able to call forth at a time, again?

That's right. It was _six_.

"Worrying." Tabitha mumbled, as bronze melted down into the flagstones of the road.

"If he keeps doing this, he's got to run out of Willpower at some point. There's three of us, and one of him-"

Tabitha was frowning and shaking her head. No, that was right...

"My valkyrie suffer limitations, yes. But when all is said and done... they are flimsy, and weak for a golem, and above all, they are easy to create." Guiche said, smugly, as more metal hands tore their way free from beneath the earth, golems rising as fast as golems fell. "My own limitations... I can only control a certain number, at a time. But I have practiced their creation frequently, to find the spell less and less taxing, and of late... of late, the spell itself has suddenly become even less difficult. I can only control a certain number at once..."

Guiche smiled more widely than before, as he fell to the ground with a heavy clunk, Tabitha jumping away from her position as blades stabbed upwards and into the space she had occupied before. They were crushed almost instantly, or so it seemed, beneath a mountain of ice, but even so. Tabitha had been forced to relenquish her spell.

"... But I can _create _a very great number indeed, all at once." Guiche finished, lying flat on his back in the encasing armor. "And as it happens, it does not _matter _if I do not move them immediately, so long as I only move a certain number at a time..."

There were five golems on the battlefield at the moment, Louise suddenly noted, in a moment of stark clarity. Five, in contrast to what Guiche had said, and Kirche had just been forced near to Guiche.

She was in motion even as the armor encasing him moved to his will, springing up to its feet as his arm raised, sword in hand. She rammed into Kirche with a shoulder, forcing her out of the way, preventing him from cleaving her spine, and lifted Derflinger to the guard.

She allmost got the sword there in time.

Not fast enough to block it completely. Just barely enough to deflect it, just enough that the edge didn't sink into her neck. Instead, the tip dragged across her collar, and from there down, at a diagonal, scoring a gash across her ribs.

A large chunk of ice flew over Louise's head as she dropped to her knees, forcing Guiche back before he could make a second attack.

This wasn't good at all. They could destroy the golems almost as fast as they appeared, but each time it required a spell to be cast, and though Kirche could destroy two or three at once, Tabitha four or sometimes five, if they were close enough together, those were likewise stronger spells that taxed the caster more dearly. If they could destroy his stockpile of golems in mass before they could be animated, or even see where they were or how many of them were left, that would be another thing. If they were willing to just cut down their mind-addled classmate where he stood, everything would be solved at once, the weakness of a mage who relied on golems. As it were...

The tide of valkyrie halted, for just a moment. And then, around the ice, arms appeared. Two, then four, then six reaching around the ice, heaving it aside. Then more, as metal arms sprang from Guiche's back. Swords re-appeared in the first six arms, shields having seemed to have been set aside, but the ones on the back...

From the outstretched metal palms, another arm grew. Then another, from the furthest reach of the last, continuing onward until a number of what almost seemed like grasping tentacles waved ponderously in the wind, clawed fingers at the furthest reaches snapping together and driving sparks against each other.

It was enough to give Louise pause for a moment, though Tabitha simply hurled another large icicle at Guiche, this one to find itself cleaved apart rather than striking home.

And then the battle renewed in earnest.

Guiche howled like mad, seeming to be everywhere at once, closing with one person while the armor appendages reached across the road to harry another, drawing fire with a golem only to drag it away with a mass of claws, or sinking them into some surface only to rip himself across the battlefield, swords whistling through the air as he made his way to the new location.

It was maddening.

Was this, still, just the same spell that let him control his golems? They almost couldn't keep up at all, against the seemingly relentless tide of bronze. It was taking just a little longer to destroy the golems, they each did just a little more, and they were beginning to react just a little slower.

Even as one or two of the grasping limbs were severed, and even as golems fell in droves until it seemed like there wasn't the slightest patch of the battlefield that was not covered in shredded or frozen or melted bronze, Guiche, foppish and romantic Guiche, alone against three other mages, was actually _wearing them out_.

It was infuriating, almost.

And then those grasping limbs drove into the ground, propping Guiche into place, a smile that simply _screamed _that he'd had an Interesting Idea coming across his face, and it was barely in Louise's power not to blast him right there, to prevent whatever fresh horror he'd imagined from coming into existence.

Armor formed around her. Mostly. Around her arms and legs, certainly, though her chest and midsection were left distressingly, worryingly, bare.

It only took a moment to discern the intention, as Louise's own arms moved, raising and turning Derflinger about, much to his confusion. From there, she began to fight with every ounce of strength she had.

It was enough that she didn't immediately impale herself, as was likely his intent.

It was not enough to stop the effect entirely, and even as she strained, teeth grit and arms aching, the tip of the sword moved ever closer to her already blood-stained blouse.

Tabitha was the one who hesitated, eyes flicking between them, just for a moment uncertain of what to do. Kirche did not, passionate flame gathering at the tip of her wand in preparation for incandescent rebuke.

"That's quite enough of that, Guiche." Montmorency's voice called from the inn entry, and the inexorable force driving the armor on Louise's limbs trailed off. She dropped Derflinger, heedless of his indignant replies, and clutched at her chest as her heart pounded.

Montmorency stepped out, two chalices of wine in her hands.

"You have come for me, correct? I am here. Will you not drink, in the wake of your succes?" She asked dryly.

"Ah... indeed, my love. To success. To your beauty. And to _things to come_." Guiche said, voice deepening meaningfully as he strode past the battlefield, ignoring Kirche, Tabitha, and Louise as now unimportant.

He reached out as Montmorency extended a chalice. And then past it, gauntlet clinking as it claimed the one she had kept in reserve. Montmorency frowned, but drank herself, nose crinkled, even as Guiche drained his wine without any pause for breath.

He tossed the chalice aside, eyes hooded.

"Annow m'der." He slurred.

... His eyes widened a little as he seemed to realize the sound of his own voice.

"... Pssn. Drg dyer own c'p?" He managed, tottering in place, armor seeming suddenly heavy.

"Not at all. I drugged them both." Montmorency explained, as Guiche crashed into the ground, asleep before he struck it. "I simply took the liberty of drinking the counteragent in advance. Well, if you want something done properly, I suppose you _do _have to do it yourself. In any case, he should slumber for several hours now, and I really must return to the brew. I cannot leave it alone for long, even having reached a slightly less critical stage. Excuse me."

... a nasty part of Louise wanted to kill the both of them right there. It would solve nothing, and cause many problems in the long run, but it would make her feel _so _much better.

She restrained herself, though, and simply gathered up Derflinger to seek some form of medical assistance before the light-headedness from all of this blood loss left her actually losing consciousness.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

His familiar was dead.

Upon recieving certain evidence of this fact, in addition to some suggestions on how it could have happened, King Joseph of Gallia had entered a brief period of mourning for the loss of a tool of such caliber.

After an acceptable ten and a half minutes of feigning grief as best he could manage, he gave up and retired to a large antechamber and began drawing runes and lines in circles across the bare stone floor, and spoke the chant.

There was a moment of silence as the words came to a crawling halt. Of nothingness, as was vaguely appropriate, along with other reactions, to a summoning of Void.

Then there was a faint buzzing noise as an indistinct form appeared in the circle, then solidifying.

Short knee-length trousers, an expensive looking and finely tailored shirt, and a mantle of odd design, coming to an end in two long and wide tails, reminiscent of a beetle's hardened and protective wings. They added a certain something to the visible, and twitching, antenna poking out of a mop of short-cropped green hair. Lending a certain air of something other than human to the young man in the circle, not seeming quite old enough to even properly shave.

For a moment, he thought that he could notice things shifting and crawling about beneath the fine tailoring.

"... 'Sup." Wriggle Nightbug said, after a long and thoughtful look around the room.

In the end, it wasn't difficult to induce swallowing in an unconscious Guiche once the potion was finished. And at that point, Montmorency was much more agreeable and quickly went about properly repairing the wounds incurred in battle and only hastily dressed and tended.

Even so, the group had, as a whole, grown somewhat weary of her presence.

In any case, it had long since been time for them to go their separate ways. Tabitha, after all, still had an infestation of Red Caps to clear out, and while Kirche would have been happy to assist, the detour would have made the journey to the Zerbst lands significantly longer.

Montmorency and Guiche would, for the time being, remain here in the inn. No point in moving him before he had fully recovered, after all, and [i]someone[/i] was obviously going to have to repair all of the road that had been torn up and mangled in the battle, and it might as well be the Earth mage.

And if everyone else had [i]forgotten[/i] to leave money for the rooms behind, well, as a noble it was hardly as though Montmorency did not have funding of her own, and if pressed she was certainly capable of brewing tinctures and salves for the peasant populace in leiu of gold.

No longer their problem, either way.

Still, Louise was grumblingly quiet the rest of the way, across the borders and into Germania proper, mood clearly somewhat soured by the surroundings. Which weren't really so very different from the Tristainian side of the current borderlines, but it was more of a matter of principle.

Kirche's own lady mother was present at their arrival, smiling with just a touch too much friendliness to be considered genuine. Somehow, despite the heavily tanned skin, and the deeper and lustrous red of her hair... the faint, but visible scars, and how that hair was swept back into almost impossible rigidity of spiked form...

She reminded Louise very much of her own mother.

Which was almost, but not quite, enough for her to turn around and run for the border right there. But she couldn't do that. If you fled from a hunting hound... it wasn't even a matter of choice. It [i]would[/i] chase.

"Daughter of the Valliere." the woman said, lowering her head in a subtle nod, prominently displaying the silken and heavily embroidered eye-patch. "I, Sophitia Johanna Eilzabeth von Anhalt-Zerbst, the Burning Mountain of Germania... welcome you to our humble estates."

There is a moment of intense, blood-soaked pressure weighing down on Louise from every direction, and Rumia's attention is caught, turning in sudden intense interest towards the woman, even as Louise can almost feel the hot and hungry breath of a dragon on the back of her neck, knees trembling.

"Sorry we're late, mother~" Kirche says cheerfully, and the malignant air of [i]bloodlust[/i] fades into nothing as Louise draws a shaky breath once more. "Something else came up on the road, and we got a little side-tracked."

"Ohohoho~" Sophitia chuckles. "Never mind that, dear, these things happen. But come, you must tell me all about it. Dinner will be served shortly, the kitchen staff has gone above and beyond~"

She pauses, before turning and entering the large mansion once more.

"Oh... and little Valliere?" She calls. "When you have the chance, [i]do[/i] let your mother know that I anxiously await our next meeting, whenever this may be."

Not quite trusting her voice yet, Louise simply nods, somberly.

...

In spite of the initial meeting, things proceed warmly over the next week. The food is lavish and exquisite, the staff are more than competent and do not bat an eye at feeding an incredibly large wolf, or pandering to Rumia's dietary eccentricities... And of course, the hot springs are like none in Tristain save those reserved for the Royal family themselves, beneath the palace.

Louise thinks, but isn't sure, that it is Sophitia who orders a certain sack removed from her luggage, and then returned, with what is inside reduced to polished and preserved bone, plated with a thin layer of silver. She isn't quite sure what to feel about that. Clearly [i]some[/i] sort of subtle jab, but she can't think of exactly what, though it does make her own reluctance to throw the object away more bearable.

Aside from this, both Louise and Sophitia take great pains to avoid so much as unneccisarily crossing paths with one another in the halls.

Even so, it is at the end of the week when, a little after dusk, everything crashes to the ground as the other shoe drops, and Kirche enters Louise's guest quarters, face pale and an important looking letter clutched in one hand.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

"... Well?" Louise snapped, knowing that whatever this was, it could not possibly end well, but deciding that it was better to get it over with quickly.

"His Majesty..." Kirche begins, tongue tangling a little bit before she forces herself to continue. "... You are aware that your princess Henrietta was engaged of late to one of the sons of our Emperor? Albrecht III... I mean... the wedding and alliance between Tristain and Germania has."

Kirche pauses to take a deep breath. Somehow, Louise knows what is coming.

"... They have been called off." Kirche manages. The letter drops from shaking fingers to the floor. "And the Emperor... he holds you responsible. Personally."

... It's going to get worse. Louise cannot read the writing from here, but the seal at the bottom in unmistakeable.

"And... he knows you are here." Kirche finishes, before shaking her head. "He wants me to... I have been ordered. Directly. To send your head to the High Palace."

... Well. That's that, then. Louise closes her eyes. Just for a moment, to think. Satchel by the door, sword with it, and [i]that[/i]. The door is behind Kirche. No windows in this room, but it opens up to a private and small bathchamber, which itself opens up to a balcony. Second floor, it might be a tumble, and damn her but she cannot recall if there are bushes below, or if they have thorns. She'll be finding out soon enough, she thinks.

She opens her eyes again, and they are set with hard purpose.

"You should have struck while I slept." Louise advises impartially, fingertips drifting to the handle of her wand.

"I... I don't [i]want[/i]-"

"It doesn't matter what you want any more." Louise says, voice stern and harsh. "You have been given a direct order from your ruler. Do you think you have the option of refusal? I will [i]not[/i] simply stand aside and allow you to become a traitor to your crown. You had to have known it could come to this!"

Kirche flinches.

"... I didn't think-"

"Of course you didn't." Louise deliberately sneers, wand now drawn and at the ready. "Everything in your empty head got sucked down to fill your obscenely huge udders! Draw your wand, Zerbst dairy-cow."

There's a slight spark in Kirche's eyes at that, and her teeth grit. The wand comes out, reluctantly, from... of course, where else but her cleavage.

"... You won't get me angry enough that I won't regret this." Kirche says, after a long moment. "But... I really am sorry about-"

Louise doesn't give her time to finish explaining. Instead, rather than attempting magic, or letting the taller girl cast, she punches her in the stomach without showing an ounce of hesitation or remorse.

This foul play is either surprising enough of a move that Kirche did not expect it, or subconsciously she desired nothing more than to fail, because with a 'whoohf' of expelled air, she doubles over.

Bent far enough down that Louise can wrap one hand around the other, butt of her wand clutched inside, and slam a hammer-blow down into the Germanian's head.

It sends Kirche sprawling to the floor, wand skittering out of her hand from the stunning blow.

The best thing to do right now, would be-

-[i]"Hence the tragedy." "I would like to invite you to a relaxing trip to the hot springs." "You seemed terribly out of sorts. The apology was genuine."[/i]-

... she. Can't bring herself to do it. The justification is immediate. It would be loud. Messy. Hard to explain why she was not just riding at night, but covered with blood.

She didn't want to.

But she had to do something. Kirche was already starting to reach for her wand.

Louise kicked it out of the way. Then kicked [i]her[/i] over onto her back, before falling upon the older girl. She's larger. But as most young and feminine nobles, her physical exertion is only enough to keep her form appealing to the eye, and all else is done with magic.

With a wand out of reach, and with Louise's now calloused and roughened fingers around her throat, no breath and no speech, there would be no casting. She had learned full well, through her headhunting, many ways in which even a filthy and unwashed commoner might, if the situation allowed, take the advantage of a mage with such swiftness that there was no time to respond. And practicing with a blade had not simply roughened the skin of her hands, but left the muscles of her arms, such as there were, rigid and unyielding even as Kirche's softer hands beat and clawed at them, desperation and instinctual fear filling her eyes.

-[i]Glint of delight in her eyes as she shushes everyone to listen raptly, Tabitha tells the best stories, hostility ebbing into friendlier jabs[/i]-

The battering goes weaker, and the arms go limp as fear, along with everything else, leaves those eyes.

Unconscious. Just continue to hold for a few more minutes, and...

With a softly strangled noise, Louise rips her hands away from Kirche's throat, falling away.

Breathing. She's not moving, there on the floor. But still breathing.

"You know..." The sword starts, but then falls silent, seeming to have changed its mind about whatever it had planned to say.

Louise knows what she should do. It should be [i]easy[/i]. She's done it before, disgraced nobles, bandits, riff-raff...

Longueville. Though that probably wasn't her real name. But she didn't know, then, who she was, and even having just been an acquaintance, afterward...

Wardes.

She can't do it. She can't bring herself to draw the sword, even as she picks it up, and after a long moment fastens it on her back.

Instead, she heaves the limp and almost boneless Kirche up and onto the bed. Then, all of her things in hand in a sack, she drops out of the balcony and to the ground.

Her momentum is arrested short of the ground, as Sophitia, waiting, calmly plucks her out of the air and grins, savagely.

"Hello, little Valliere." She says, softly, conversationally. "Leaving our hospitality so soon, with no warning? The cooks will be insulted, not to have the chance for a feast at your sending-off."

Louise bites off a reply, teeth grit.

"Hm... well. It's a shame Albrecht didn't send [i]me[/i] those orders. Really, the silly man. I don't have any orders about you at all." She says, thoughtfully. "... Well, not that it would have stopped me if you'd actually tried to kill my daughter, up there. Just this, though, will be a lesson well learned. Still. Shame you didn't do the stupid thing, and just run out through the hallways. I'd decided, since you let her live, that if you got away... then you got away. But then you went and jumped right into me."

She sighs, melodramatically, but it's fairly obvious that she's not [i]too[/i] disappointed in this outcome.

"So now?" Louise grunts.

"Now? Weelll... Whether I intended to let you go or not. My daughter's going to be in a little bit of trouble if she lets you get away like this."

Sophitia grins, like a shark.

"I mean, I'd be a pretty piss-poor mother if I just threw away the answer to my daughter's problems, when it just drops so conveniently into my lap~"

[i]"Is that so~?"[/i] a familiar voice sounds from the nearby shadows.

Louise isn't sure what happens next.

All she knows is that one moment, she is being held securely with no chance of escape, and the next, Sophitia has withdrawn a couple paces, eyes narrowed and sharp as she glances around the area, a pair of fine red scratches showing on the back of the hand that she had held Louise with.

And so, not looking the gift escape horse in the mouth, she immediately turned and fled the scene to where the wolf had been kept chained, ignoring the sounds of battle beginning to rise from behind her as she went.

It wasn't like she had a choice. And her familiar would be fine.

She hoped.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Sophitia hisses softly as the lines on the back of her hand throb.

Close. Too close.

Whatever that was, it hadn't been aimed to just mark, as a warning. The intent had been immediate and unflinching, to cleave right through her arm.

She grinned at the thought.

"You're an interesting one... Valliere's familiar."

"Is that so...?"

Before a further word is spoken, Rumia floats out of the darkness, arms spread wide and open.

"But... it's my line. You're an interesting human!" she chirps. "You smell... of ash, and bloodlust~"

"... I can't deny that~" Sophitia agrees, cheerily, eyes glinting. "So... you'll understand, right? When I say that now... you won't be returning to your Master's side, ever again. Ohohoho~"

"Not so." is all Rumia has to say, in turn.

And then her fingers are a hairs-width from Sophitia's eyes. Undeterred, the Zerbst responds with a gout of flame swinging with her wand, driving the youkai of darkness back just a half-step, and following with a burning stone the size of her head, impacting directly into Rumia's chest.

The battle progresses from there, with the occasional glowing orb interspersed with gouts of flame and stone ripped up from the very earth, and lasers carving paths through the ground and golems of flowing stone.

But when it comes down to it, in spite of her monstrous strength, Rumia's speed and power... she faces a distinct handicap.

The seal.

It won't allow her to think. To plan ahead. For the most part, she fights on instinct alone, like a beast. A powerful and magical beast, to be true... but nothing more than that.

Powerful. Fast. Tenacious, and hard to slay.

But predictable. And long have men made a hobby of slaying monsters.

Minutes pass, as the two match themselves against each other, but eventually, an opening is left that Rumia's greater speed and strength cannot make irrelevant. Sophitia's hand lashes out, and closes around a fistful of hair.

"G-O-T you~" Sophitia croons softly. And without hesitation, she casts flame.

Rumia rips herself away, of course, but not fast enough. Some painful and severe burns to one hand are, Sophitia has decided, enough of a cost to pay to end this battle as the flames grow more intense and focused, skin blackening, and the stench of burning flesh rising as Rumia's screams grow silent and she becomes still.

A long moment more passes, as Sophitia painfully opens her hand and lets a fistful of bloodied and torn free hair and scalp and cloth fall in a mess, fire before her crackling as she brute-forces a healing spell, far from her focus and talent but sufficient for the current needs, and mends her hand. There will be scarring, of course. But it will still function as normal. That's fine, then.

"... Ufu..."

She pauses, turning her head back to the burning mass. The fire is there. The corpse isn't.

"Ufu... fufufu~" the chuckles sound through the darkness, coming from every direction at once.

Sophitia's grip around her wand tightens.

"Show yourself!" She barks, eyes finding nothing within the gloom.

"I think... No." the familiar's voice answers, amusement thick and palpable. "But. Thank you~. I've gotten... everything I needed. And more than I could have possibly hoped or planned for~"

"Your little Master got away." Sophitia grunts. "By now, no way I can accurately guess which route she's taken, and once she's off of Zerbst lands she's fairly well on Valliere ones. In the night, if she's smart enough not to use a torch or lantern, no way to spot her from the air either. You won, I guess, and delayed me long enough to let her get away."

"... That too. Ufufufufun~" the darkness chuckles. "I hope to see you again... next time~"

The voice trails away into silence. Then Sophitia shakes her head, and douses the lingering flame on the grass.

Next time, huh?

... Sounds almost as fun as the thought of what that Heavy Wind might do, when she finds out what [i]nearly[/i] happened.

With a spring in her step, and a wide and toothy smile, Sophitia retires for the night.

Elsewhere, in a small and hidden campsite just across the boundary between Germanian and Tristainian lands, Louise is aghast at the state of her familiar, as Rumia appears before her, covered in burns, in places with skin blackened and crisp, oozing fluid.

This is what comes of fighting a fire mage out to kill? She can't help but shudder at the thought of what would have happened if [i]she[/i] couldn't get away. She's fairly sure Rumia will heal from even this, but...

She's seldom seen so much of her familiar, she reflects. Or, for that matter, wanted to see so much less.

A reddened and burned hand pats down on her head, an unusual... unprecedented, in fact, show of affection from the youkai.

"There~ There~" Rumia says, eyes glinting a little, red in the dark. "It's okay. I chose to do this for you. Because... you are [i]my[/i] im-por-tant Master, right?"

Her smile widens, showing glinting white teeth in the darkness. A soft and low whine comes from the nearby wolf.

"... What will you do, now? Master~"

... She doesn't know. Louise can't think of what to do. The world spun around and against her so fast...

"... Home isn't far from here." she decides, after a long moment of thought. "We'll go there first."

It's not as though she's desperate to see her lady-mother, or her father, the Duke. Or for that matter, Eleanore, if she is home. But Cattelya... Cattelya has always been there. It's been too long since she's seen her.

Rumia continues to pat Louise's head, grin widening further still.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Mine.

Mine mine [i]Mine[/i].

The thoughts echoe through her head, so unfamiliar, so new-ish. She had [i]forgotten[/i] what it was like to think clearly, without searing agony burning its way through her brow, into her very brain.

Too long, by far, since she had truly thought, or planned, or acted on much of anything but the most basic and crude level. It was so... [i]undignified[/i].

She had been a queen, and was made a beast.

Why?

Because she had not merely preyed upon humans, but held dominion over them. Ruled over them, supplanting even gods in their mind as she preyed upon their instinctual fear of darkness, of her dominion, of [i]her[/i]. Until they knelt before her, until they marched to battle at her command, until she had no need to lower herself to hunting when a slight smile and a few words of implication would have them bring forward a sacrifice to the darkness, a captive of battle, a weeping unfortunate who lost in the lottery, or if she felt merciful, when times were harsh and every hand was truly needed, simply spare livestock. A gesture of the magnanimity that she could offer, as queen.

And then a human got the better of her. Not in deceit, or trickery, or subterfuge and sabotage, skills which would traditionally allow the clever humans to come out on top of the powerful but foolish youkai, skills which she knew well. But with simple and raw divine might of aggrieved and insulted gods behind a mortal human's fury.

She could have been killed, then. Easily. But simple death was not appeasement enough, the local gods, the ones pushed out by her rise to prominence, would have an example made of her.

So instead of simple death, they took everything she had away. Sealed her. Made a living example and a laughingstock of her, for [i]centuries[/i] of simple-minded humiliation that she was no longer smart enough to understand. Until, at least, the uprisen peasants simply forgot of the times when she ruled, in paying fealty to their old and returned gods, paying sacrifices of blood to new owners.

Seldom were [i]gods[/i] satisfied with mere beasts, when a human sacrifice was to be had. No matter that it might be smarter to leave the hands that were needed one year, and pick from those that had not starved to death from their absence the next.

... She wasn't smart enough to understand anything but that something was wrong, and it hurt to try to think. She couldn't take the seal off, herself. Only a human could remove it or place it without being bound by it themselves. And she was not smart enough to so much as [i]ask[/i] a human to remove it, much less devise a plan to trick them into it.

It was a sheer fluke and happenstance that it had come off.

It wouldn't have happened, unpleasant as the situation was, if she had [i]not[/i] been bound by this little human.

[i]Her[/i] Master.

She smiled, exulting in the pleasure of being able to think of things as truly [i]hers[/i] again, rather than simply things which she happened to have.

Still. It stung a bit. But to think again, she could easily bear a much smaller indignity of servitude. And without hesitation or doubt, act as she saw fit. In [i]her[/i] Master's best interests.

She smiled.

Hers. Forever. What a pleasant thought~


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

"You have picked an odd time to visit." The duke of Valliere, Louise's father, stated calmly.

For a long few moments he stared at her, considering her haggard and slightly unkempt features before deciding, possibly wisely, not to ask.

"Your Mother is currently out, paying a call at the palace, and will not return for the next week. Eleanore is, of course, abroad and researching." He was not entirely clear on what, and so did not clarify. "Following luncheon, I myself will be riding out to inspect the estates of the late Viscount Wardes, so until tomorrow afternoon... aside from the staff, it will simply be yourself, Cattleya... and the young Mott. Cousin of the royal messenger, the Count Mott, you know. We are currently entering negotiations to consider a betrothal between them."

Louise's back stiffened before she forcibly relaxed. Rumia frowned subtly.

"I see. It will be quiet, then."

"Oh most assuredly." the duke agreed.

Louise reluctantly nodded.

It didn't take much, over lunch, for her to quickly decide that the young man was nowhere near good enough for her sister. Not a difficult decision, of course. There was nobody in the [i]world[/i] good enough for Cattleya.

But it was not her decision to make, and with her sisters illness... for one reason or another, suitors for any of the Valliere daughters were in short supply.

Even so, with his unpleasantly hooked nose, squinting eye, and drawn features... it was, perhaps, somewhat shallow, but she felt that this man was one of the worse options that could be found.

And so, she proceeded to ignore him politely as she could, through the meal, even as Rumia stared at him, in deep contemplation. It was actually quite the surprise, for Louise at least, when she had set down to eat slowly and politely at the table. Perhaps she had picked up some sort of subtle cue from Louise, that she desperately did not want to be embarrased just now.

The young Mott's polite, but mildly vexed smile showed teeth that were white enough, but unpleasantly crooked.

... After lunch, Louise remained at Cattelya's side in the menagerie the whole time until the sun set, long after her father had left. Her sister was somewhat uncertain about Louise's simple desperation to be in her presence... but she had always been free with kindness and warm hugs, even if the situation wasn't really explained to her.

The young Mott watched from a distance, seeming unable to think of a reason to thrust himself into the sisterly bonding without being too impolite about it, and frustration was clear on his face. Rumia patted him casually on the shoulder, but without any real pity or sympathy for his circumstance.

She didn't speak until bed-time.

"... There is a darkness in that man's heart." she said, softly.

Louise sat up, but Rumia was already out the window, and she had long since learned the folly of simply attempting to order her back inside.

She lowered herself back down to the bed, staring at the ceiling.

... When Cattelya woke, it was not to the dawn.

The room was black from the night sky, candles unlit, and moons shining nowhere near enough light to properly see.

It wasn't the light that woke her.

It was the rough hand, pawing at her bodice, as its owner breathed heavily.

"What..." she began, before shaking off the bleariness of slumber. "You- What do you think you're doing?"

"What...? Do you think." he pants, becoming more forceful as she starts to struggle to get away.

It's no good. She's too weak. Wand, where is her wand... not beneath the pillow?

He holds it up almost mockingly before tossing it to the side. She takes in breath to scream, but he swoops down and forces a kiss, cutting it off.

"It's fine. It's fine." he says, sharply, as laces pop. His smile is perverse, and he's leaning on her enough that she cannot draw deep breaths to scream any more. "We'll be married, one day. You need someone to take care of you. I'll take [i]care[/i] of you." He hisses as he pulls at fabric. "If your family is going to get in the way of courting you in the daytime... I'll simply come to you at night, like this. And begin early."

No. No, she isn't ready for this.

She doesn't want...

"St... Stop-" She manages to croak.

His only answer is low chuckles.

Which swiftly cut off into a choked gurgle. There's a point of something coming out of his chest. He looks dumbly down at it. Metal, and something is trickling from his mouth.

There's a twist.

Something splatters across her face and body, warm and wet, and she can taste salt as it drops down onto her lips. She trembles, across her whole body.

The metal withdraws, and he slumps to the side, to the floor. Dead, or soon to be.

And Louise is there.

Little Louise, precious and sweet and innocent, even if she has a temper.

Little Louise, with a sword in hand, dripping red, red on her hands, red on your bedsheets, red spread all over Cattelya and across the carpets.

Sweet little Louise, who had just brutally killed a man in front of her.

It was too much. Just too much, all at once. She couldn't help it, when the blood-stained and murderous apparation before her reached out, with reddened hand.

She flinched back.

"Don't touch me-!" she started, shrill.

Cattelya regrets it as soon as she says it, of course, because there's nothing she can see in little Louise's face but desperate worry for her. Worry that, as she jerks back her hand as though burned by hot coals, is swiftly being replaced by pained sorrow.

There's no time to put her thoughts in order. To explain that, no, she hadn't meant it, she hadn't meant it like that, that isn't what she meant, as Louise turns on her heel and sprints out of her room.

It was just...

It was all just too much, all at once. All of the situation pressing down upon her, and...

Without a further word, Cattelya fainted away.

Elsewhere, Rumia pats Louise on the back, face buried in her pillow.

"Is something wrong?" she asks, simply.

Louise doesn't answer. Instead, her shoulders shake a few more times. Only then does she take a deep breath, rise up, and go to clean herself and her sword. She doesn't speak until that is done.

"... Never mind home." she croaks softly, before swallowing it down as her voice evens out. "... We're going back to the academy."

"Is that so?" Rumia wonders aloud. Then smiles. "As you say... [i]my[/i] Master."


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

If nothing else, Reconquista was incredibly zealous in the true faith of the Brimiric Church, and the stamping out of heresy, even if they weren't particularly fond of those bits of the dogma which stated exactly which familial line was to run things in a given country.

And a half-elf, which could only be created with the unholy and despicable union of carnality with an [i]elf[/i], that, if nothing else, could only be considered an abomination and heresy.

Naturally, when they began to hear rumors of an odd woman, who looked somewhat like an elf, and consulted lists of people only to find a match with a certain man who had been [i]executed[/i] for consorting with an elf, well. That was all the reason they needed to begin searching the area for the potential crime against nature and all that was good and Brimiric.

Every day, Tiffania prayed that today would be the day that Mathilda came home. Either to help all of the children escape to a new location, where another orphanage could be built, or simply to distract the searchers with something more important.

She couldn't abandon them, even to lead the searchers away. Without her support... some of them might survive. Maybe.

If she stayed, then if they were all found, then the children would not be spared, as accessories to heresy. If the hunters even bothered to learn that there were children here to begin with, and did not set the orphanage alight without warning, cleansing the heretical mixed blood with purifying fire.

She did what she could, without leaving, to turn them away. To let them become lost in the woods. But even when she knew that they meant her harm, it was difficult for her to bring herself to harm them in turn. She couldn't.

But even so, with every day that passed, they became more determined and managed to press just a little closer before they were turned away.

... She couldn't think of anything she could do. But she had books. With every day that passed in disappointment as Mathilda failed to return, or even send word, she pored over them more and more desperately.

And then she found something that might work.

The first thing that she noticed about the newcomer, aside from the small doll floating at its shoulder, were its fingers.

They were jointed, just like an intricate and detailed doll with moving parts. Looking up, past the frilly lace and dress, her neck was the same. She suspected that every other joint was similar.

Despite this, she had a startling and uneasy [i]real[/i]-ness. Her hair was true hair, moving gently and softly in a draft, and her skin and face showed the softness and warmth of life. She blinked, eyelids closing and opening again as she looked around, before finally settling on her ears. And then, her chest, as the true final stopping point, as a subtle frown formed.

"... Where are the suzuran?" Medicine Melancholy asked, before stopping and shaking her head. "No... where am [i]I[/i]. And what do you want?"

"... Please." Tiffania begged, from the deepest parts of her heart. "Help me."


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

"You know he's a void mage, right?"

Bishadal stared flatly at the young familiar before him, staring him down casually the way no human could bring themselves to. Few humans, anyway.

"... What?" he managed, politely, after a few moments.

"The king." Wriggle clarified. "Void mage. You're looking for those, to do something nasty, I guess?"

Bishadal went through a few emotions before settling on casual and exasperated disbelief. It was impossible, of course. There was no way that he could have been stupid enough to, of all the humans around, pick one of the four important ones he was looking for to ally with.

If that were true, Joseph knew what he was here for, and he had been using Bishadal as a mindless pawn this whole time.

And he rejected that supposition with all his heart.

"... And you're telling me this, because?"

"Well, he's a dick." Wriggle replies, arms crossed and frowning. "... And his daughter keeps trying to harass me into bedchambers and empty kitchens and linen closets. Basically, just fuck them both."

Uh [i]huh[/i].

"Don't you have something else you're supposed to be doing?" Bishadal asks, deciding to ignore the blatant and unabashed attempt to use him to avenge petty and childish greivances. "Involving war matters."

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Geeze, she wasn't kidding, you guys [i]are[/i]... Well, see you later, and someday worms are going to chew through your cold and mangled corpse. Look forward to it, and bye!"

The words were delivered so cheerfully, that Bishadal had nodded calmly and made it halfway down the hall before he registered what had actually been said. By the time he turned around in annoyance, however, she was already gone.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

The human gurgled, as it fell to the ground, purple foam rising from its mouth.

Annoying.

So annoying. She hadn't seen a single suzuran petal since then.

Defending little humans. Who'd had [i]dolls[/i]. Before she'd taken them away, and they'd started bawling about it, anyway.

Well, not really defending humans. More, killing humans.

She was doing both, sure. But focusing on one was more palatable than the other.

Stupid humans.

The human stopped moving. How boring. Well, maybe another would come throu-!

She moved back, quickly, as a foot crashed down into the earth.

"Hey? Sorry. But these guys belong to a guy." Wriggle says calmly, as Medicine frowns. "I can't let you keep killing them off, I guess."

"What are [i]you[/i] doing here?" The doll snaps, flexing her finger-joints just a bit.

"... I don't remember." Wriggle admits, freely.

"Tch. Idiot insect." Medicine responds, sly smile beginning to grow.

"It's not like that." Wriggle replies, pulling her foot out of the ground. "It's just, I don't keep information active unless it's currently in use. Whatever it is, I'm not doing it. So I don't remember-"

Wriggle pauses, to sneeze.

"... ugh. When I start doing it again, I'll remember. Probably. Until then, I don't remember."

Wriggle pauses, and frowns, as she rubs at her nose.

"You'll never start again."

"Wait... Aww. You cheater!" Wriggle accuses, coughing before backing up again.

"Insecticide is a poison."

Wriggle sneezes, then glowers and leaps away.

"Tut. Fall down and leave an empty husk like any other bug, why don't you?" The doll grumbles, starting to turn away.

She's warned that Wriggle hasn't left [i]quite[/i] yet by a crashing through the trees, and she's winged by the branch of a section of tree, barely grazing her, but spinning her around a little.

"Don't underestimate insects, though. Proportionately, an insect can move many times its own body weight without effort!"

"So you're going to attack a can of bug spray?"

There's a long moment of silence through the woods.

"... Oh, wait. That's right. I remembered what I was going to do."

... Sure she did.

How annoying...

"Heey. Did you notice?"

He looks for only a moment, before dismissing her from his mind as anything important.

"She's been avoiding you."

... This gives him pause.

"If you're in a room when she walks in, she backs out really quickly, before you can see her. It's like she doesn't want to be noticed. Do you know why she would do that?"

He wracks his brain for a few moments before realizing that it [i]does[/i] seem like there's someone he hasn't spoken to in a while.

"... I don't know." He says, slowly.

"Is that so...?"

"But I'm going to find out." he decides, jaw set, as he walks and leaves her behind.

"... Ufufun~"

Chuckles echo down into silence in the empty halls.

Somehow, Kirche had made it back to the academy before her.

Louise did what she could to avoid her. Particularly when her own familiar was not present. To some degree, Rumia's behaviour had shifted of late... it wasn't as though more affection was unwelcome, though. But a lot of her habits, like wandering off to do whatever she pleased without heed to whether or not she might be [i]needed[/i] remained.

Which meant it wasn't long before she found herself in an empty room, with Kirche between her and the door, and the window leading out only to almost certainly significant injury when she reached the ground.

"Will you [i]listen[/i] to me, already?" Kirche hisses.

Louise's hand grips tight on the handle of her wand. But she doesn't feel in too much of a hurry, today, to break both of her legs or face punitive measures for starting a fight on school grounds.

"... Talk." She grunts, waiting.

"Mother has dealt with it. [i]That[/i]. Officially, it never happened, no orders were made, nothing..."

Louise stares her down.

"... Unofficially, if you see Mother, please run and hide." She finishes quickly. "But, can we just [i]talk[/i] about-?"

The door crashes open, revealing Colbert, brow dripping with sweat.

"There you are!" He says... then blinks. And then he shakes his head. "Miss von Zerbst, please come with me. Tristain desperately begs the services of all talented Fire mages present."

"Wha...? I was talking! What's going-" Kirche begins, only to be interrupted.

"There is no time to tarry. We must ride at once. Every member of the faculty, all the most talented of the Fire Mages among the student body..."

He catches his breath.

"... I suppose a moment to explain. We are unsure of the cause. It just happened, nobody can explain... Rumors say that Oliver Cromwell, of Albion's Reconquista movement, commanded vermin in Brimir's name to leave Albion, and they responded. Whatever the reason, an enormous swarm of insects has gathered, and is even now entering the borders of Tristain."

Louise draws a sharp intake of breath.

"You understand, then. If the swarm is allowed to bypass us... it is on a direct path to the most fertile crops and plantations of Tristain. The country will [i]starve[/i]! Classes have been cancelled until this emergency has been resolved, we have no time to lose."


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Ten miles out, it looked like dark storm clouds on the horizon.

Five miles out, it could be mistaken for the smoke of a wildfire, hanging low to the ground.

A mile off, the faint humming noise in the air became distinct, a massive drone of buzzing that grew steadily louder and louder as the swarm advanced, devouring all greenery in its path.

Kirche had never seen anything like it. And as she watched the crawl of a great cloud of insects inexorably crossing the land, she could only pray that she never saw anything like it again. She hadn't been able to fully understand Colbert's desperation, at first, when he'd charged into the room unannounced.

But now, if anything, she couldn't imagine how he'd managed to even hesitate to explain briefly. At this rate of speed, it would reach the first farms in... not even a day, they had hours at most.

"It's getting bigger as it goes!" a voice calls from some noble she's never seen before. "Whatever is happening, local insects are gathering to it as it passes!"

He looks sort of like that Malicorne boy, given a lot more height, and all the belly turned into muscle.

She desperately tries to guess at who is who in the gathered throng, avoiding the few people she actually recognizes, the students of fire magic gathering together with others of their age group, staring aghast at the oncoming catastrophie.

Guiche's father, the General de Gramont. No mistake. That woman, her features were clear, and hinted at Montmorency. Relatives of the staff, of students... people she'd never seen.

"Fire walls!" a mop of pink hair above a breastplate called.

Next to the princess of Tristain, here personally. Here next to a grim-faced... that had to be the prince Wales of Albion himself. Next to the Cardinal. It had to be.

Louise's own mother. Karin.

There was a whooshing fury, even as Kirche added her own wand to raising the pyre, and the wall of flame rose higher than a castle. Not even nearly as high as the buzzing horde.

And then Karin brought her wand down, and a screaming gale of wind crashed through, knocking many of the mages to their knees.

It was...

Unbelievable, what resulted, when the wind crashed into that wall of flame.

Gloriously powerful and incandescent. Had she ever thought that [i]Louise[/i] was the one who could make things explode? The wall erupted outwards and into the cloud of insects with what seemed like it had to have been a divine fury of some angered pagan god.

And then the last traces of flame blew away, leaving behind a grinning devil in the form of a barely harmed cloud of oncoming famine.

"Impossible..." someone whispered.

"It's seared only the outer layer." someone else called, even as Kirche realized that herself. Uncountable charred husks had dropped to the ground.

From the insects that had gathered their bodies together into what had to have been a nearly solid wall, to prevent the flames from passing through, sacrificing... not even a hundredth, not even a thousandth, of the total number of insects, beetle and biting flies and cockroaches and locusts swarming alike. In unison, coming together so that the vastly greater by far majority would continue on, to devour...

It was impossible. Insects didn't [i]work[/i] like that!

A brief panic ensued, as even while orders were barked out, conflicting and from different sources, and mages blasted desperately away with everything they could think of.

And then a scream arose, and everyone who had been looking up to the clouded skies of insects belatedly looked down to the earth.

Crawling insects, centipedes and beetles and countless vermin had been making their way across the earth below with alarming speed, ahead of the cloud...

The cloud, moving slower. Drawing attention, even as the insects below doubled their pace, and even now were surging up the legs and bodies of the nearest mages.

The screams of horror redoubled, and were joined with pain as they began clawing at themselves, desperately and rapidly trying to pull off the oncoming tide of chitin even as blood...

Merciful Brimir.

What [i]was[/i] this?

"Help me! Help me-!"

"They're biting, they're chewing!"

"Save me! Someone! Brimir's mercy!"

"Please!"

"Please, no!"

... The first few had already fallen, no more than lumps on the ground where insects were now crawling over.

The rest...

Nobody could quite draw their eyes away, even as they drew back in instinctual terror from the oncoming and hungry horde. Before, it had promised only a slow death of starvation. Now, it promised a swifter and messier end.

And then Karin called fire, without hesitation or remorse, burning insect and the dead and the already doomed alike.

"Slow retreat!" She howled, making herself [i]known[/i] over the terror and the desperation of Tristain's nobility by sheer force of will and demanding presence. "Fall back two hundred meters, burn [i]everything[/i] along the ground as you go. And then hold the red line of flame!"

She had some kind of plan.

She had to have some kind of plan.

Kirche had to believe that, even if she was the ancestral enemy, and even if she knew for a fact that the blood of her relatives stained Karin's fingers.

If she didn't believe that, she would have broken and fled long since.

Karin has retreated with the Cardinal and royalty.

Still, Kirche holds steady, burning the line. Colbert is to one side, the elder Gramont the other.

Stormclouds are gathering above.

What are they [i]doing[/i]? Are they insane?

Rain begins to fall. Karin and the royals are doing something, exhausting themselves, to call [i]rain[/i]. A torrential and flooding downpour.

[i]Damn them to the blackest pits, what are they thinking?[/i]

It takes everything everyone has to keep the line of flame holding strong. Even in the whipping winds, and even as it fizzles and grows faint in places, and even as they have to consistently move to keep the insects at bay as they try to go around the fire held by thousands of mages.

Some break and flee, exhausted, and desperate to survive, and many make it off the battlefield. Some do not. Some have fallen and can only desperately crawl to keep away from the line of searing fire, even as the mages that still stand know they cannot afford to drop the line for just one or two exhausted and doomed mages, and what is on the other side may be worse than death by flame.

Then Colbert and Gramont are called away. Back to the rear of the lines.

Kirche holds up the flame, even as her knees tremble and buckle.

Even as the rain does everything it can to drown the flame.

Even as the stink of the deep oil of the earth...

... Oil?

The rain suddenly stops above her, as half the force draws back, focusing instead on creating an impossibly huge and united roof of ice, blocking the falling rain.

For just a moment, the wall dies down to almost nothing, bare gutters of flame in the storm.

And then the transmutation spell is completed, and what is falling from the sky is not water but [i]oil[/i], hundreds of thousands of gallons of it crashing down and soaking everything as the insects crash forward.

And are ignited in flame.

If insects could scream, Kirche can only imagine that their howls of agony would sound sweeter than the finest chorus and orchestras, just now, as a fire like unto the deepest pits of hell springs into being, consuming and devouring the oncoming plague.

The transmutation holds. But the storm begins to die, and all that remains is a miles-wide expanse of flame and ash, roaring even as exhausted, nearly drained mages do what they can to stifle it, now that the threat is gone.

And then there is a rumbling from the sky that is not of thunder.

Cannonfire.

The fleet of Albion, flying under the banner of Reconquista, is sweeping slowly into Tristainian lands, having followed behind the insect plague at a cautious distance, now prepared to reap the rewards of fresh crews of mages, full stocks of cannon shot and powder, and an exhausted and demoralized foe.

Few of the shots reach home at this distance, but all are too close for comfort.

Karin howls something in nameless fury, possibly the only mage on their side of the field that was not drained, or nearly so, of their will power. And with angered reluctance, she sounds the retreat.

Everyone who can flee, does.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

She can't help but think that she should have gone along.

All she can do is cast, mis-cast rather, explosions. And a sword is of less than no use against even a small swarm of insects. And she'd been instructed to remain behind at the school.

But Louise still can't help but feel that she should have gone along, or followed behind, to...

To do [i]something[/i].

When all was said and done, she had begun to learn to hate fighting, battle, and violence. But a plague of insects wasn't a fight. It was a natural disaster, which everyone competent had to assist in holding back.

... When all was said and done, it just meant that she still wasn't a competent mage. As though she'd needed that re-confirmed.

She sighed grimly, and turned away from the window, where rain was falling gently and storm clouds had grown so thick and black in the sky that it was hard to see anything.

There was a flash of lightning to illuminate the room, and a draft left the candle flickering. After a moments thought, she used it to light another, in case one were to blow out.

Lightning flashed, casting the shadow of a man from the window. Her head whirled...

Empty. Just rain falling. What?

... It's the sort of storm that can lead you to imagining things and seeing things that aren't there. Even so, her hand tightens around the grip of her wand.

The door creaks, and she spins, wand rising.

It clinks against Tabitha's staff as she nudges it to gently point away from her.

"... Empty." She says, softly, still damp from the rain. "Where are the teachers?"

"You just got back?" Louise asks, then shakes her head. "They've left. All of them, to deal with an insect swarm. Most of the eldest students, too. I think you'd have been taken along if you were here."

"Serious?" Tabitha says, looking out the window.

"It seems so. By now, there's nothing you could do but help with clean up, even if you left right away, though." Louise agrees.

It doesn't seem to mollify Tabitha, though, as she continues to stare out into the rainstorm, frown slowly growing.

"Who is here?" she asks.

"... There's us. Our familiars, I guess. The younger students, and the staff, cooks and housekeepers and such-"

"Vulnerable." Tabitha interrupts, turning away from the window. "Something is wrong. You can't tell?"

... Louise doesn't realize what she's talking about. Not at first.

But then it starts to make a little bit of sense. There's a sort of... faint tingling. Tenseness, and unpleasant anticipation. The sort that comes up only when she has just begun to realize, instinctively, that something very bad is about to...

"... Damn." She says, sharply.

Louise has just enough time to pick up the sword, not even enough to strap it to her back, before a scream rings out. Sharp and shrill, and yet barely sounding over the rain. Just loud enough to draw attention.

Even as she curses herself for being a fool, to charge into an obvious trap, Tabitha grabs hold of her collar and points out the window.

"Airship." She explains.

Louise spares a glance, and her mood sours further still.

It's not one of Tristains.

It is flying the banner of the Reconquista [i]dogs[/i].

"This day just continues getting-!" she begins, but bites it off.

One thing at a time. For the first, the scream from the courtyard.

... She wasn't sure what she was imagining. But it wasn't this. There are gasps of horror from the few gathered onlookers aside from them, peering out windows as the rain lightens up a bit to reveal a tableau of carnage, a figure crouched over the prone... what used to be a student. Young. Female.

There are crunches and meaty ripping noises.

Louise brings up her wand, but cannot cast immediately, struck for a moment dumb by the sheer and deplorable horror of the scene. Tabitha has no such restraint, and immediately launches an icicle like unto a spear.

One hand of the figure whips around with a crackle, sword in hand, destroying the missile without a backward glance, or diverting attention from its prey.

"Y-you...!" Louise snarls, her voice beginning to return to her. "Depraved! Monstrous, beast!"

For whatever the reason, it is her words that catch the figures' attention, when deadly assault did not. Its grim feast comes to a halt, and it rises.

Then it turns, and it is as though the whole world has spun and twisted onto its head, colors askew.

"Louise." The bloodied and horrible apparation speaks.

"... You are dead." Louise argues, voice flat.

"My beloved... Louise. My lovely... little wife." the terrible spectre of Wardes rasps.

"I killed you [i]myself[/i], traitor!" Louise howls.

It spurs only riotous laughter from the horrible thing.

"You did. So you did!" It roars. "And in that death I have come to know power greater than you can possibly imagine. Come!"

He smiles, red dripping from his lips in a ghastly smile.

"Even now, my love for you allows forgiveness." He declares. "Come. Kneel at my feet and surrender yourself to me, as it should have been from the beginning, and even now shall I welcome you back with open arms."

The rain itself seemed to grow silent for just a few moments, as Louises teeth grit.

"... I killed you once, when you were merely a traitor." She says. "And now you have returned a monster. If that is what it takes then I'll kill you again! And again, and again, and as many times as it may take before you learn to [i]stay[/i] in your grave!"

Wardes laughs again.

"... Then so be it." He says, grim finality to his words.

In the blink of an eye, he is simply [i]there[/i] before her, sparks flying from a blade risen high in the air, and ready to crash down with all the force and fury of a thunderbolt.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

If she had been alone, that would have been the end of her. She had never fought, directly, against someone so blindingly [i]fast[/i]...

For just a critical moment, as her eyes widened, Louise [i]froze[/i].

And then a miniature hailstorm blasted Wardes to the side, from the lowered tip of Tabitha's staff. Above, there were screams as the fight erupted.

... And the crashing noise of cannons firing and impacting with the heavy stone fortifications of the academy.

Damn it. Everything all at [i]once[/i].

This wasn't over by far, though. In what seemed like the time it took to blink...

Wardes did not heave the piled ice off of himself and rise.

Lightning flowed out, instead, from the heap of crushed frost, without dislodging it, and a lightning bolt struck, forming as it went into a bloodthirsty and howling Wardes.

And then [i]she[/i] was no longer where she had been, but across the courtyard, with her familiar's red eyes looking casually down at her, with an air of only the vaguest interest, perfectly unsuited for having just snatched her from the hungry jaws of a lion.

"... What do you think you're doing." Wardes hissed slowly. "With [i]my[/i] wife?"

Rumia's eyes turned.

"What... do you think you were going to do? To [i]my[/i] master." She asks back in turn, eyes narrowing slowly.

A brace of cannons fire, and one of the shots slams home into the central tower, away from anything warde, and punching a wide hole directly through. There's so much screaming...

"Put me down." Louise orders softly. She has to think. She has to prioritize.

There are two big threats here. Tabitha, together with her... they can't match a war-galleon. Not a full warship of the skies. But maybe...

And perhaps, perhaps, the two of them might be enough.

"Tabitha and I will handle... this." Louise says, as Rumia casts a scornful look towards Wardes. "You... I need you to deal with Reconquista's airship. Can you do that? P... please."

She should be able to.

She was on equal footing, more or less, with the grand spirit of Ragdorian Lake!

And she's always been willing to follow at least this sort of order before. But now, she hesitates.

... She can't possibly be [i]worried[/i]? She's never thought deeply enough about anything to worry about it before.

Even so, she nods, after a long moment.

"Fiiiiine." she says, lazily. "But you aren't allowed to die. Alright? If you do, I'll make you soooorrry, [i]my[/i] master."

She grins. And then she sinks down into her own shadow on the ground and disappears.

[i]That[/i] is definitely new.

Wardes laughs again.

"You will... handle? [i]Me[/i]?" He chuckles.

Louise answers him by swinging the sword through him, expecting him to block or dodge. he doesn't so much as twitch.

And for a moment, blinding and crackling agony rips up her arms, and she screams. Even as she dimly realizes that Wardes is emitting a surprised and pained bellow of his own, as he is for a moment cleft in twain, before he crackles into electric fury and reforms, clutching at where the wound was and scowling darkly.

"Thats... a really strong flavor." The sword says, slowly. "Not sure how much help I'll be, this time, with..."

"I'd figured [i]that[/i] much-" Louise manages, fingers spasming and just barely enough under her control that she doesn't drop the blade.

As Tabitha renews the assault, she barely manages to sheathe the blade once more, and take up her wand again.

Nothing.

Nothing at all, that either of them do, hurts him one bit.

Not for real.

Not the way the sword seemed to, though that was a mutual and joined agony.

Impaled with ice, blasted apart, cleaved with blades of wind, burned with flickering fires dancing between the raindrops, or burying him under an avalanche of stone.

Nothing hurts him for real.

How can you harm lightning, electricity, with attacks? No matter what, only a heartbeat passes, and he is once more hale and hearty and laughing at the futility of their efforts.

Nothing seems to do more than annoy him. It's [i]infuriating[/i]!

Louise channels that rage into her next failed spell, and blasts off, or seems to, Wardes' arm at the elbow.

He's less annoyed by that than he is, a moment later, when Tabitha simply freezes his entire body solid in ice.

He flickers through it in almost an instant. And then a spot of hope arises, because his arm isn't back yet.

It only takes a few more heartbeats, and he doesn't seem to notice himself, but he's beginning to slow. His healing is, at least.

His actual [i]speed[/i] is as ridiculously high as ever, as is proven when he's suddenly [i]there[/i], and gripping Tabitha by the head.

"I'm tired of playing with you, girl." he says, flatly, lifting her up off the ground. "My [i]wife[/i] and I would like to be alone now."

Without a further word, he slams her heavily into a wall. There's an agonizingly meaty crunch.

Tabitha's arms go limp, and the staff drops from her hand as he tosses her aside like a rag-doll.

No. No, no, no, that wasn't supposed to-!

... she's still breathing. Faintly. But still.

And then, as he turns, smiling, Tabitha's dragon falls from the sky with all the force of a screaming, scaled, and clawed meteor.

He strikes, of course, but something...

Wind shield? Was Tabitha just conscious enough to see her familiar incoming and set up a defense in advance?

It doesn't help against the next blow, as Wardes blasts the dragon aside.

"... I don't feel like playing with you." He grunts. "... If you don't take here away, she'll die, you know? It will be your fault. I don't care either way, but I'll happily kill you if you keep coming."

The dragon's screech is keening and pained.

And its eyes are almost what could be called apologetic, as it turns aside, and desperately flees with its master in careful claws, leaving the forgotten staff behind on the ground.

"... And now. My lovely Louise." Wardes says, striding slowly force. "If you will not willingly kneel?"

He stops just out of her arms reach, grinning widely with still-reddened teeth.

"I'll just have to teach you to obey."

He swings. Barely, just by a hairs width, Louise evades a crackling and clawing blow, and her wand is raised once more. When she speaks, it isn't an incantation so much as just a simple command.

[b]"Die."[/b]

At the flat word, Wardes' eyes widen just a touch, and he flows into an almost instinctive motion to avoid the blast and strike from the side and behind. Pain blossoms.

"Foolish little Louise. You can't win."

Louise grits her teeth, and manages to wing him with the edge of a blast. It invites another punishing counterattack.

"You definitely cannot win. I'm no longer simply a mage using lightning."

Another exhange of blows, and she definitely feels something crack, thinks there might be the stink of something burnt, faintly.

"I am transcended."

A new blossom of pain.

"I [i]am[/i] the lightning now. I am so much more, more than you could ever possibly understand. How can you possibly stand against me?"

"... I will win."

Louise's voice is defiant, and Wardes roars in laughter once more.

"No matter what. I'll definitely win." Louise continues, staggering, but still standing. "If it breaks every bone. If I shed every drop of blood. No matter what it costs, there is no way that I won't win. I will definitely defeat you."

Something flickers on Wardes' face. For just a moment, the sheer [i]certainty[/i] of those words leaves him... almost uncertain.

But not for long.

In another flash, he's crossed the distance, and holds her up by her throat.

"We'll see-" he begins, chuckling.

Only to pause, as he realizes that the business end of Louise's wand is hovering less than the width of a fingernail from his eye.

[b]"D-!"[/b] Louise begins to command.

But he's already moved his arm, and the not-incantation is aborted as she is slammed painfully into the ground and lifted up again.

"Impudent-!" He starts to rant.

He is interrupted by nothing more than the merest whisper on the wind.

He draws back quickly. And as a wide and deep line opens itself through the earth and grass of the courtyard, larger by far than any single spell should have the right to, he leaves part of his arm behind as it crackles away and, over several long heartbeats, reforms.

A voice resounds through the courtyard, as cold and as sharp as polished steel in the winter.

"... And what. Do you think you're doing?" it says slowly, as Karin halts herself with levitation once more, staring down through hard eyes. "... With [i]my[/i] daughter?"

"... You..." Wardes hisses, slowly.

Karin lowers the rest of the way to the ground, feet touching down as Louise carefully claws breath after breath into her lungs, securing consciousness.

Wardes displays reddened teeth once more in a savage grin.

"... Ha. hahaha!" He erupts, laughing once more. Like he's laughed at so much already. Louise is beginning to hate that laugh.

"... Fool." Wardes says. "I'm not that awed little boy any more. Karin! You were a fool to come. Do you think I'm still afraid of [i]you[/i]?"

"You [i]should[/i] be." Karin replies, nothing in her voice but the purest and most absolute of certainty.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

The first pass was over before Louise had quite registered that it was even begun.

Blades of wind had struck and cleaved Wardes into seven pieces. Had he been formed of flesh, the monster would have instantly died from the assault. Instead, he had struck in turn.

Three red lines formed from his fingertips welled up on Karin's cheek as he passed by.

She paused for a moment to touch them, and draw away drops of red, before returning her unimpressed focus to the traitor.

"I'm stronger than you, now." Wardes leers. "I'm [i]invincible[/i]!"

"Air hammer." Is Karin's simple reply.

The spell is named for its effect, wind gathering together into a concussive orb of force. A beginner, or average mage, would be satisfied with its initial size, roughly that of a clenched fist, or the head of a laborer's small hammer. With time and invested effort, however, the size and effect of the spell would grow.

An air hammer compressing wind and force into an orb the size of a cannon shot, or of a grown man's head, was considered impressive and the sign of a mighty mage.

The sphere of force Karin released was like all the wind of an entire hurricane had been compressed into the size of a stagecoach. Wardes was instantly smashed apart.

His laughter didn't cease, even as lightning gathered together and surged, stretching out into claws lancing for her side.

"Wind shield."

The spell itself is a simple zone of stilled and hardened air, preventing or slowing passage.

The more inventive do not still the air, but move it, spinning like a localized tornado, and flinging objects away.

Wardes soars a bit, before halting in midair, and lunges past to open another gash across Karin's collarbone, dangerously close to her throat.

"What's wrong? [i]Karin[/i]. You look... tired. Where is it, your infamous Heavy Wind?" Wardes says, mockingly. "You've been in retirement too long. You've gotten soft. How long has it been since you've so much as fought in a border skirmish? Five years? Ten? You're even weaker than back then!"

[b]"Die."[/b] Louise interrupts, standing shakily, and Wardes' body is blasted apart. He howls as he reforms.

"... You're interrupting me, Louise." He snarls.

"You are a fool, Wardes." The Heavy Wind sighs.

One hundred invisible blades carve through the Lightning Bolt.

"Gragh!" Wardes snarls, as he takes form once more.

"There is no merit to measuring yourself against someone else."

"Wretched-!"

"I will definitely. [b]Kill you.[/b]" Louise hisses, blasting him apart again.

"Am I stronger than him, today? Am I more skilled than her? Am I superior, today, to that person? All of it is irrelevant. There is only one suitable question."

"Karin..." Wardes snarls, and lunges.

An Air Hammer drives him back.

"Every day. Am I stronger than I was before?" Karin says, somberly.

An explosion blasts Wardes to pieces.

"Through terrible means, you are stronger now, than I was then." Karin admits freely. Then her eyes become sharp and hard. "[i]So am I![/i]"

There is a howl of bestial fury as Wardes rises, and the battle continues.

It seems like an even match, or relatively so.

On the one side of things, Karin had already entered the fray weary from working great magics, and Louise was heavily injured. But working in tandem, even as their wounds bled, Wardes could not close in time to strike so much as a single further blow.

On the other, Wardes was impossible to truly harm the way a normal human might be. But with every blow struck, he seemed to reform just that much slower, just that bit more clumsily.

And through the whole endeavor, he had not cast so much as a single spell, instead fighting like a simple, though immensely powerful, animal.

In the end, it was becoming a contest of nothing more than endurance. The deciding factor wasn't going to be who was killed first, but whose drive to continue wore thin, who's healing slowed too far to be relevant.

It was a race against time, to simply and repeatedly inflict damage without being harmed, until the monster could no longer recover from its own wounds.

And then Karin paused, to simply and without expression point upwards.

Wardes looked, without seeming able to help himself.

In the sky, and approaching the earth rapidly and nose-first, was the Reconquista airship. Rumia was standing on its deck, arms outstretched and grinning widely, like a child running through the wind and pretending to fly like a bird.

Wardes is no longer human.

Even so, he freezes for a moment.

A heartbeat, as it approaches the earth, through him, at full speed.

Another, as his eyes widen, and his jaw starts to move.

And then it crashes down to the earth fully, with what seems like it must be all the force of an enraged god smiting down some sort of heresy.

Silence settles , after the wreckage grinds its way across the court and to a shuddering and crunching stop. Louise can't [i]imagine[/i] what the cost of repairs for [i]this[/i]...

"The students. Evacuate them, we're falling back to-"

Karin is powerful, experienced, and imaginative in the use of her powers.

She is not, however, invulnerable to harm.

This is displayed with a meaty, softly crunching noise as Wardes' fingers emerge from between her ribs. There is an appalled, disbelieving silence, as he pulls his hand back.

"I'm not afraid of you." Wardes spits.

"Are you scared of the dark?" Rumia whispers, from over his shoulder, red eyes gleaming as the rain begins to fall heavier than before.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

She fled.

Took her mother up in her arms, ignored the battle ensuing behind her, and [i]ran[/i] to where panicked younger students had gathered.

Tabitha was already there. The few remaining students with significant talent in healing were already desperately tending to her, and they looked desperate and horrified when [i]the[/i] Karin was set down to slump on the floor before them, also in urgent need of help.

Help which they simply couldn't [i]give[/i]. All they could do was keep her, for a bit, from drowning in her own blood in front of them.

Louise's enraged fury was palpable and grief stricken.

The healing wing of the Water tower was sealed up behind almost as many wards and bindings as the poorly-kept secret storehouse in the central tower, where ancient artifacts and rare treasures were hidden. It was a security measure, if nobody was there, to keep curious students from getting at rare and, more importantly, [i]expensive[/i] healing reagents, or fouling preserved restorative tinctures.

The door stood up against Louise's assault with all of the solid and stern implacability of a thin sheet of tissue. She didn't so much as hesitate to think about that, before charging in to empty everything, every last bottle and vial and stoppered tube, into a sack, and rushed it back.

Some of it was useful, others not so much. Some of it was expensive imported spirits, which she threw aside to crash into the wall like the useless [i]dreck[/i] it was.

Barely, they managed to stabilize Karin's condition. She'd continue to live, at least for as long as the potions were working inside of her. Tabitha, in turn, was breathing far easier, but Louise could scarcely bring herself to care about [i]that[/i] right now.

Karin's eyes were unfocused, even as Louise barked orders at students that would never have given her a second look except of distaste before, but now had nothing else, with no idea what to do. They fell eagerly behind anyone who gave orders, desperately relieved that someone was taking charge. And accepting the responsibility, if things went poorly.

She caught Louise's sleeve.

"Palace." She wheezed, managing to put the important matters before anything more personal.

Louise relayed the order, hurrying everyone out and into the rain, despite shrill complaints, abandoning the academy down to the last member and the least of the serving staff, out into the rain.

The wolf was gone off somewhere.

She had to ride her mother's manticore, low to the ground, as a desperate trail was beaten from the school to the capital. It wasn't that far. Not nearly so far. At a push, it wouldn't be so long before they were out of the rain.

Desperately, she did everything she could to keep her mother dry, and warm, even as the wet chill started to seep into her bones.

"... You must know." Karin said slowly, almost too soft to hear over the rain and the tramping of feet and beating of wings.

"You can tell me later-"

"You have to know." She forced herself to continue. "Your sister is sheltered. She had never so much as seen more than accidental injury. It was too much for her to take, all at once. But it was not your fault. You did the right thing, the only thing you could have done."

Her breath rattles a little bit. The effects of the potions are starting to fade, and they can't simply stop to dose her again.

"I have to say it." she continues, seeming a little disoriented. "No matter how it may have seemed. I have always cherished every one of my beloved daughters."

"... D-don't say things like that, like you aren't going to have a chance-!"

Gunfire erupts, and the manticore howls, even as screams erupt. Little flowers of red are blooming along its side.

Louise's mind whirls with realization.

"Barely enough time to begin with. You won't make it there at all, under heavy pursuit." Karin wheezes solemnly, even as some students try to strike back at marksmen they cannot locate, but most just continue to flee. "But there's no way that I'll make it to the palace after leading them away, and there's only one thing that will distract them enough to ignore a pursuit and wait to close ranks for the seige of Tristania. ... It's a sacrifice that only I can make."

Louise's shoulders shake in the rain, even as she understands. The Heavy Wind is one of the greatest tactical advantages Tristain has in any sort of conflict. The Reconquista [i]scum[/i] would do much, if it seemed as though one of the most dangerous threats to them could be eliminated. It was probably only from the dim sight of pink hair on a manticores back, that their targets through the pouring rain were decided... so..?

"Jump down, and flee." Karin commands, with as much strength as she can muster. "And remember your mother's love."

"I refuse." Louise replies, voice sharp and cold. "... You idiot. Do you think you get to just make decisions like that on your own?"

Even as Karin's eyes widened, Louise didn't hesitate, and before her mother could grab hold of anything, she threw her down into the waiting arms of running servants.

"... I'm sorry, Bernandette." Louise whispered, as she rummaged quickly through the saddlebags. "I have to borrow you from Mother for a while."

By the time the pursuing force left the woods, a figure was waiting sternly for them on Manticore-back, back stiff and proud, not simply expecting but imperiously [i]demanding[/i] their attention. Through the thundering and pouring rain, two distinct features could be made out of the figure.

Long, drawn back and tied off pink hair.

And a steel mask that hadn't been worn since before the birth of Eleanore Albertine le Blanc de la Bloise de la Valliere.

[i]"... Come then!"[/i] she called out, voice distorted and echoing slightly through the mask. [i]"If you are in such a hurry to charge into a miserable and Brimir-forsaken hell, then I shall oblige every last one of you in your deaths!"[/i]

Bernandette, the ancient manticore, roared in fury united with that of his rider.


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

They had bought into the ruse perfectly. It seemed like Louise did a [i]just[/i] convincing enough impression of her mother, tired, possibly wounded, but unbowed and proud, that the Reconquista were willing to believe that Karin had indeed remained behind to cover for the retreat.

As Bernandette rolled in the air to avoid a crackling pass of splintering ice, and a little lead bullet whizzed past her ear, Louise [i]still[/i] was not convinced that this was entirely a good thing.

"Below." The sword whispered.

Louise let go with her legs, having foregone the many straps and buckles that most riders of anything airborne preferred, to keep them in place. Having a rider buckled in made Bernandette irritable. More so than he always was, in any case. She couldn't afford to have him in anything but top form.

And it let her do things like this, dropping out of the saddle and falling down towards a rider whose eyes were widening, but wasn't turning his mount away from the path directly beneath the manticore, where he'd no doubt intended to strike for the underbelly, in time.

The blade flashed down, and much of him fell off of the now-screaming drake. Not far away, Bernandette fell upon another small dragon, his nearly-human jaws and teeth like razors going through the rider and part of the drake's neck with equal ease. It was hardly needed, in addition, but his tail lashed forth as well. Once, twice, inflicting deadly poison, before he pulled away, letting the soon-corpse take the brunt of an attack which just barely missed his own form.

Louise, for her part, drove the tip of her wand up behind the drakes skull and cast. Then leapt away, barely managing to clamber back onto Bernandette's saddle in mid-flight.

Slowly, very slowly, they were making an impact in the forces.

Four more dragon riders. At least thirty ground troops... most riflemen, and ineffective at this range now that they were in the sky, high winds blowing most of the hopeful bullets astray. No magical bullet marksmen in this lot. But spells were more accurate, and though she couldn't tell which, at least a few of the troops below were mages without mounts.

So she had to keep at least a weather eye on the ground.

For the moment, though, Louise focused on the next rider, as Bernandette flew past, tail snapping out in deadly lunges. Her wand came within a range that she couldn't miss.

[i][b]"DIE."[/i][/b] she commanded, snarling, and for a brief few moments a patch of the falling rain was red.

Three.

Two, as Bernandette's stinger pierced through a riders' chest, and he savaged a drake to fall.

One, as a mis-cast spell barely misses a buckled in rider, but takes enough chunks out of his drake that he is left screaming and desperately working at the straps until they reach the ground.

And then the last falls, and Louise allows herself the briefest moment of relief as she knows that Bernandette can outrun any pursuing force limited to the ground with ease, and if there were any further riders in the area they would already have arrived.

This relief, and the illusion of safety, is torn away as winter passes by them in full, taking with it a long stretch of skin from one of her legs, and one of Bernandette's wings.

He barely manages to flap the other enough that the crash is not fatal for either of them, but they are brought to ground.

The rain is lightened a little, and she can see as well as hear the rifles preparing to fire.

Without hesitation or thought, Bernandette calmly heaves himself to his feet, and then collapses once more, between Louise and the firing squad, even as the volley ensues in full.

His eyes turn to focus on her, already beginning to cloud.

[b]"It has been an honor, little one."[/b] Bernandette's voice rumbles, deep and gravelly.

She'd known, intellectually, that some Manticores were supposed to be able to speak. But this is the first time that Louise had ever heard so much as a single word fall from Bernandette's teeth.

They would also be the last opportunity to do so, as he let loose a final sigh and grew still.

"Heavy Wind!" the sharp, Albionese accented voice of the captain on the other side of the small hill of flesh between them called. "Know that your death will serve Reconquista in ways you cannot understand, and you will stand as an example to all the cowards who hide in Tristania and protect the last remnants of an unworthy monarchy."

He hasn't even [i]asked[/i] for [i]her[/i] surrender.

You can't make an example without having someone to make an example of, Louise supposes. ... So, this was it, then?

"... I can't do this often." The sword whispers in her ear.

She's instantly listening. If there is anything it can do, then now is the time.

"Just try not to fight it." it says. "It'll make things harder for both of us."

Without her direction, her hand rose, and drew the sword. Without any plan, or will behind her movement, Louise leapt over the still body of Bernandette.

And bladed death fell upon the gathered troops.

Derflinger was one of very few swords that could talk. But there was one thing that any sword who could would agree upon. You simply [i]didn't[/i] get wielded by the Gandalfr and not learn something from the process.

And Derf hadn't just been swung by one Gandalfr, once.

"D-! Demon!" the captain screamed, trying to scramble away backwards, even as limbs flew and blood came down like the rain.

He didn't make it far, even after rising desperately to his feet and turning to run, before the pointy bits of the sword came through his chest. In the time it took him to start to look down at it, it withdrew and slashed.

His head rolled off his shoulders, and hit the ground before his knees did.

The rain had finally come to a stop, and Louise was drenched in red, and could once more move her body on her own.

"That's about as long as I-" The sword began, only to come to a halt as a great creaking noise came from overhead.

An Albionese fighter, smaller than a full war galleon, but still more than large enough to bear a full twenty cannon on either side, had at some point appeared in the sky, and was now turning broadside towards her, hatches opening in its hull.

"... Sorry." The sword apologized. "But there's nothing I can do about this one."

Behind the mask, Louise grit her teeth. Even so, she stood tall and proud, awaiting death with dignity.


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

He had never seen Karin in such a state, and he had seen the Heavy Wind in [i]many[/i] states.

She had been screaming, [i]screaming[/i] herself hoarse and tearing her horrific wound open further than it already was trying to wrench herself free of grim faced servants.

It had taken [i]three[/i] mages to sedate her, even as another two operated on the wound, as she kept trying to fight them off and charge out on some suicidal fool's errand back out to where a sudden war was surrounding the capital, even without her familiar and mount.

And now, still weak from blood loss and only healed enough to be stable, she was-!

"Lady Karin, this chamber is reserved for the use of Royalty alone!" he yelled barring her passage. "And summoning a familiar before your own is confirmed deceased, that... that is [i]heresy[/i]."

"Damn your heresy." Karin replied, flatly.

"... It is only due to how long we have known each other, Lady Karin, that I did not make out the words you have just spoken."

"[i]Cardinal.[/i]" Karin snarled in turn. "I have been forced to leave my [i]daughter[/i] behind, astride Bernandette. Were it to get me inside of that room even one second faster, I would happily burn every last church inside of the boundaries of Tristain to the [i]ground[/i]."

Cardinal Mazaran grits his teeth. And then, only very begrudgingly, and only because he knows full well that, heresy or not, Karin does not make idle threats, he steps aside.

Karin chants the summoning spell inside, at an ancient runic circle carved carefully and beautifully into the very marble floor itself, at twice the standard speed, and does not go faster only because her healing is [i]still[/i] not complete, and one of her lungs is still collapsed in upon itself and does not function at all.

The familiar arrives.

It is one of the listed beings that is traditional, though unusual, indeed, exceptionally rare for a Wind natured mage to summon, though the Cardinal is forced to admit that never before has he seen one [i]half[/i]... even a third so large as this one, even.

It is, in every aspect, most thoroughly [i]not[/i] Bernandette.

Karin's legs give out, and she has struck the floor before the blood has completely left her face.


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

This little spark, this flickering and crackling arc of electricity was...

Amusing.

Little baby Youkai, fresh and exulting in its newfound power, but still with not the [i]slightest[/i] idea what it actually was, or how it worked.

It knew enough to grasp, instinctually, that it wasn't 'supposed' to fight like a human any more.

But it had no idea how a youkai such as it was 'supposed' to fight, either.

And so it flailed mindlessly like a beast, in a fashion which [i]worked[/i], more or less, but at the same time was unsuited for either a man [i]or[/i] what it had become.

Poor little baby~

[i]She[/i] knew what she was doing. And once it was swallowed up in the darkness, it had no true hope, really. Though the thick blackness would take little nips from time to time, just to keep the fear fresh. And growing.

But not to kill outright.

It wasn't in the nature of [i]this[/i] sort of darkness to offer a swift end. It was closer to the pitch blackness of the deepest shafts of a caved-in mine, offering only a terribly slow descent into madness and a death of starvation, even as thirst would be swifter, and yet the desire to live forces the lost soul to lick and suckle frantically at the walls and hanging spikes of stone, gathering up every last trickling drop of moisture travelling through the earth. That sort.

But just playing with one wasn't fun enough. And she'd let the wolf be for more than a long enough time.

"You're gonna die~" she whispers, cheerfully into the wolf's ear.

It might not understand the words, but the tone behind the words is sufficient as its jaws snap, and it breaks into a snarling whine as they close around nothing at all.

"... Hurry up and change." She whispers again. "If you don't change before I get bored... I'm going to eat you~"

The animal stinks of fear. On the edge. On the edge. But not [i]quite[/i]...

It's been a while. She's starting to get bored.

Of both of them.

She starts to make a decision, to do something, and... then.

Somewhere, cannons are lowering.

Somewhere, the ground is covered with blood, and shots fire.

She's bored of them. They aren't important anymore. Something-[i]hers[/i] is in actual danger, and it's only a moment's effort to throw out the unwanted baby spark, ignore the unborn pup, and do something more important.

The cannons sound, and Louise faces the last moment of her life.

And then, suddenly, and with the oddest sensation of hands gripping around her ankles, everything is black.

... It's no description of death taking someone that [i]she[/i] has ever heard of, getting grabbed by the ankles. There's supposed to be Brimir's light, or a saint to drive away the devilish spirits of deceased elves and offer guidance beyond, or a cloaked man with a silver timepiece, or...

Well, she supposes that there's few ways to [i]confirm[/i] that sort of thing, anyway.

...

Rumia huffs in annoyance, and Louise begins to very dimly realize, floating in the blackness, that she might not actually be dead.

"Geeeeeze." Rumia complains. "Didn't I tell you, you weren't allowed to die?"

"... You say that like you get to make the decisions." Louise grumbles. Then she shakes her head. "And besides, it's not like that's how I planned things going."

"... Heh. Like I said, though, if you died, I would make you [i]sorrry~[/i]"

Hands form from the dark, and then an upper body, and Rumia takes a grip of Louise's head, and very slowly draws her tongue across her cheek, just barely below her eye and just barely above the edge of the mask.

"... you are... De~li~cious~" she hums, eyes glowing. "You look the best, [i]my[/i] master... when you're covered with blood~"

"... Enough." Louise says, sternly.

"Ufufu."

"I'm going to leave now." Louise continues.

"Ufufufufun~"

Rumia chuckles for several more minutes.

"... 'Go'?" She says, when it dies down. "Is that so."

She shakes her head.

"But. You're safe here~" Rumia says. "Here, there's nothing that can possibly hurt you except for meeee~"

"... My safety isn't a concern. There are things I need to do." Louise answers.

It's not the response Rumia was looking for, as her eyes narrow, and her fingers bend, nails starting to draw very fine lines of red across Louise's temples, beneath her hair.

"Is that... [i]so[/i]." She hisses softly, then smiles, and very slowly draws her hands away.

"You're boring me." she decides, voice a little stiff and annoyed, and not entirely truthful. "Fiiiine. ... You owe me a [i]little[/i] debt over this, though. Remember, [i]my[/i] master... you aren't allowed to die."

A smile blooms and widens on Rumia's face.

"... Next time. Next time, whatever you say or do, I'm not letting you leave. Neeever, ever, no matter what you say or do~"

With that, Louise feels a sensation very much like something large is spitting her out of its mouth, and finds herself a couple hundred meters down the road, whining and cringing wolf at her side, as an airship floats uncertainly in the air some distance away.

It only takes a moment for someone to spot her, and the airship begins to turn, but she is already upon the wolf and it shakily bounds away into the woods.

It will be slower going, with branches and undergrowth in the way, particularly in stormy-ish and wet conditions such as these, but an airship will have a much more difficult time aiming at her through the canopy than it would on an open road.


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

... It was getting annoying. They just kept wandering off, and she couldn't find them.

What a headache.

And now, even...

...

Well, not here, obviously. Hide and seek? And nobody told her ahead of time...

Oh well.

There were still ways to do things, even so.

Louise rode through the night, barely making it into the palace before the dawn rose. The guards were on high alert, as she stalked through the halls.

The first person to notice and [i]approach[/i] her was Kirche, though. Vexing as that was.

"... Louise, you..." she began, note of dull horror in her voice.

... oh, right.

All of that blood.

"It's fine." Louise grunts. "... Most of it isn't mine."

"That's hardly reassuring-!" Kirche begins, then bites it down. "No... never mind that. I was going to visit Tabitha. You... you should come along."

Louise frowns.

"... I sent mother ahead. She must have-!" She begins, concern starting to grow into a fever pitch before Kirche cut it off.

"She survived to reach the treatment." Kirche assures her. "But... you should see for yourself."

... Tabitha, mass of bandages with one eye covered, is reading a book in one of the beds of the room, when they arrive. In the other, Karin rests.

Pale and still.

But breathing, shallowly at least.

"... What happened?"

"I'm not sure of all the details." Kirche admits. "But after she was out of the danger zone, she forced her way out of the infirmary to summon her familiar. The result... she didn't like it. I've pieced together that the Cardinal was there, and he [i]thought[/i] she had fainted."

"... She didn't faint." Louise says, instantly dreading something worse.

"No. The healers say it was something to do with her heart, maybe because she was still far from healthy at the time." Kirche confirms, dreadfully. "It started beating too fast. And then it stopped. The Cardinal didn't realize immediately that she had stopped breathing, they only barely got her to the healers in time to stabilize her. They... aren't sure yet what effects there might be. She hasn't woken up yet. They aren't sure... [i]when[/i] she will."

She's stressed that word carefully. Too carefully.

There's a cracking noise. Louise has to look down to realize that it came from her whitened knuckles, and that there's a thin trickle of fresher red dripping from her fist. Slowly, and painfully, she relaxes her hand.

There's a faint tinkle from the door.

"... Oh, excuse me. I thought I might see if that lady was awake yet." a melodic voice sounds, somehow chiming almost musically.

"Yes. Please, go ahead, if anyone should..." Kirche allows, bizarrely.

Louise turns her head.

Green. So much green and blue, and then her gaze latches on the newcomers torso region.

... False.

There was no way that those could be real.

Even as they fluttered and moved on their own, just little twitching flaps, they were too ornate by far, and there were [i]no[/i] kinds of fairies that would grow so incredibly large!

"Ah!" the girl says, seeming a little surprised at her appearance, somehow. But not paying the dried blood so much as a second glance, as though she didn't bother to register it at all as important. "I'm sorry, are you her daughter? It's interesting to meet you, if so. Pardon me, but I'm told that this lady summoned me yesterday? I should see if she's still alive. But please, call me Dai."


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

Wales looked at her as though she was an unsightly blot of filth dropped on an otherwise clean floor. To be fair, so had a number of the staff, before she had been all but forced out of the infirmary, and introduced to the most readily available bathchambers, but they had more or less left off after she was presentable.

Even so, a prince could be nothing if not political, and so rather than objecting to her existence he took the somewhat more polite path of, 'if one cannot think of something at minimum, neutral, about a person, affect not to recognize their presence at all'.

"You never mentioned, Louise, that you had practical experience in riding Manticores." Henrietta notes, with a very mild tone of reproof.

"I didn't think it was important." Louise muttered in turn.

"No? Louise, the primary, indeed, theoretically only requirement at all to claim membership of the Manticore Knights, is simply to ride a Manticore and survive the experience. On paper, anyone who fulfils that one qualification..."

There's a distinct and irritable muttering about the room.

"... Membership has always been [i]quite[/i] low in that division, compared to other orders of knighthood." Henrietta finishes, looking slightly cross at being interrupted herself.

"In the meanwhile." One of the generals spoke up, still looking at Louise as though he objected to her presence, but without speaking against it directly. "Reconquista has claimed at a minimum everything within twenty kilometers of the coastline, at many points extending much further, and I don't doubt that they have set up entrenchments at critical junctures, as their failed assault upon the academy, and the current seige, proves."

"My familiar has slipped behind lines for a dangerous patch of espionage." A wizened noblewoman says, displaying a small songbird on a thin and wizened finger. "The blackguards tried to push into Germanian land as well, but were turned back by force of arms. The Germanian wretches refuse to push beyond their own borders however."

An accusatory glance is sent Louise's way, after barely flicking past Wales.

"... Interestingly, they've not made any attemmpt to cross southward and into Gallian lands."

"Our forces include..."

Grim faces grow grimmer still, as the forces laid out against them are estimated, and what resources are available are outlined.

"... We cannot hold against a protracted assault." Wales confirms, after a long period of anxious silence.

"It's fortunate that they are willing to sit at their stations, and simply allow us to starve, because of..."

Karin.

Yes. That's most likely it. They know that the Heavy Wind 'escaped' from what had seemed doom, at the cost of a Manticore. And they had no way of knowing that the woman was now bedridden.

The Heavy wind could not be [i]everywhere[/i] on a battlefield at once, and even with her full assistance, a direct assault would crush any resistance.

But nobody wanted to be on the bit of the war where she was. Understandable.

So a seige, instead, until Tristania starved, or something desperate...

"The Heavy Wind has woken!" a shrill voice calls, interrupting the comparison of many equally poor options.

The strategy session, at that, was put on temporary hold.


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

It was like a frozen dagger in her chest.

Growing in splintery pain with every moment that passed, as Karin stared directly at her, without the slightest hint of recognition at all.

And then, very dimly, a light seemed to click behind fogged eyes.

"Lss..." Karin rasped, her name mashed down into a hiss.

Louise's fist tightened.

"You are still far from healthy." one of the healers on duty interrupted, hair [i]just[/i] the gold of Montmorency's curls, cup of steaming liquid on a tray.

"Please drink this. It will help to keep you from sleeping until you have been fully examined: If you are allowed to lose consciousness once more at this stage, there is no way of tellling if you can [i]ever[/i] regain it.

Karin's hand shook as she held the cup, and her eyes narrowed in an obvious fury at that fact as the liquid inside splashed about. A few drops were lost, but the Heavy Wind refused assistance in this simple task, still [i]perfectly[/i] able to feed herself.

The healer ushered Louise out, one hand on her shoulder with a grip of iron, as all the rest swooped down like a gathered nest of ravens.

"... What is-"

"The brain is a very [i]delicate[/i] thing." The healer who can only be an elder Montmorency responds, even before Louise can finish the question. "Even most other organs don't cause half as much trouble, with enough effort and Willpower put into their healing. Most important in its function is that a human must breathe. If that breathing stops, for any reason, for longer than a certain span of time... matters become quite complicated, very quickly. I'm afraid that your mother had been beyond that time-span before healers even managed to reach her, much less begin work."

Louise's teeth grit.

"What effects can I expect." She manages, rather than any of the many things she [i]wants[/i] to say, just now.

"From what I have seen?" Montmorency the elder muses aloud, voice shifting into a crisper analysis of symptoms. "She will likely not have outright [i]forgotten[/i]... information, at the very least. What and who things are. Though she may have trouble matching pieces of information together, names and faces, and have to re-learn [i]how[/i] things are done here and there. Likely involuntary muscle tremors such as were displayed will continue until a full recovery is made, and may never entirely fade away. It remains to be seen what level of physical dexterity will remain, if she can walk without assistance. She's clearly going to have to re-learn how to speak and properly enunciate... it's fortunate that she already displayed the ability to perform spells accurately with no more than twenty percent of an incantation vocalized, less if a loss of effectiveness is acceptable, because it may be some time before..."

She shakes her head.

"... well, no. That is to say, if she remains capable of properly casting at her previous level, which isn't guaranteed at all." she sighs. "Really, the brain is just so very troublesome. It affects, and is affected by, nearly [i]everything[/i]..."

"... She's been crippled..." Louise said, slowly.

"Not neccessarily accurate. That she awoke at all means that there is a promising possibility of recovery on at least some level." the elder Montmorency corrects. "A great deal of variation, of course, but leaving aside the best and worst case scenarios as equally less likely... I'd venture to say that I would expect... in a year at most, for her to simply become intimately familiar with the sort of rebellion of the mind and body that would probably have awaited introductions for another forty years yet, with her hair gone fully grey."

"And the worst case scenario?" Louise insists, flatly.

"... Well, the worst case is that not only does she not get better, but that after this initial spike of recovery, she begins to deteriorate further, until she cannot move or speak at all on her own, and is utterly incapable of recognizing or understanding anything at all, and she's simply a tormented husk of flesh that would be grateful for the merciful end to all pain." the elder Montmorency allows. "And on the other hand, the best case is that she has a good night's rest, gets up in the morning fully recovered, calls forth tornadoes to dash apart the Albionese fleets against the ground, and we all sail away into the sunrise on our own airships to regroup and reclaim all the lost ground Reconquista has collected as they twiddle their thumbs and wait for us to slit their throats. These are bothe the [i]very[/i] best and worst outcomes, and not likely at all, mind you."

Louise's face [i]must[/i] be showing how she does not appreciate the situation, because the healer hums thoughtfully before smiling again.

"I'll tell you a little secret to keep your mind off your troubles, though. The reason you get so very much under my daughter's skin is because certain allegations hit [i]very[/i] close to home." she chuckles. "You see, until very shortly before she left to join the academy, my little sweetie-pie would still...~"

"Pffth-!" Louise coughs, choking a little bit at the surprise and half-laughter.

"Uhuhu. Don't get all shocked, it's a mother's prerogative to tease their children by trotting out childish foibles..."

Her smile goes a little brittle.

"She... She'll get upset and huffy about it for a while, but then we'll laugh about it later, when I see her again. Because she's fine, even if she wasn't among the students when they came in, my daughter is definitely..."

"... When I last saw, she was perfectly fine." Louise speaks, as the woman's shoulders tremble a little bit. "There was a small misadventure, but she came to no harm through it. She remained behind with de Gramont, to tend his wounds, as he [i]had[/i] come to some small injury. It was at an inn, in a small Gallian town near the Ragdorian lake."

Her eyes are sharp, for a moment, and for a similarly brief time, the relief and gratitude seem palpable. Then she straightens up.

"Yes. Yes, of course. In Gallia... yes." Behind border lines that the invaders had not yet even [i]attempted[/i] to cross. "Of course, there was no way that my daughter could have come to harm, to begin with. It was out of the question... no cause to worry at all."


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Siesta of Tarbes had not been at the academy when disaster had struck.

Shortly prior to the oncoming plague of insects, she had left upon one of her frequent, but brief, returns to her hometown, money in her purse and stories ready to tell about what gossip-worthy events had taken place among the little lords and ladies.

Everything had seemed to happen all at once, then. First the cloud of oncoming death, and then the storm, and the first thing any of the residents of Tarbes had known about an [i]invasion[/i] had been when an airship and its onboard troops of the Reconquista movement had made itself known in the middle of the night.

The lord of Tarbes was an elderly dot-class earth mage who handled things through politics and discussion and reason, rather than magic, primarily because he had never truly grown beyond creating and controlling a single, small golem of dirt at the most. In many circles, he was considered hardly a noble at all for his failings in magic, and despite his mental acumen, he was barred from anything more important than managing one small village.

The invaders had drug him out of his home in the dead of night, and had him executed in the street like an animal, before declaring that Tarbes would now and forevermore be administered by an Albionese captain of Reconquista, Lord McKirk, a triangle-class air mage whose teeth would shine like burnished ivory, and hair flowed in gentle waves over a skull that could only be considered [i]profound[/i] in its utter emptiness in all matters which were not self serving.

He did not hesitate in claiming all of the most beautiful of young maidens, claiming the previous lord's large and comfortable house, and effectively leaving the rest of the troops to do just as they pleased.

Some number occupied themselves similarly with less endowed or radiant maidens, or widows and the shortly-to-be-widowed, as the rest set up fortifications about the cathedral, only building in town crafted of stone rather than wood, as a temporary barracks.

She had escaped their attention only by desperately smearing herself with leavings from the chicken coops and feigning to be the town leper. At a dismayed cry when her 'finger', a length of chicken bone, fell from her sleeve, the invaders would hastily throw half-eaten, burned, and near-spoilt food in her direction and urge her to go elsewhere, without approaching.

She would have already left the town behind in fearful flight, save that her rooms had been plundered along with everything else, she owned nothing but the now-filthy clothes on her back, and she had no idea where she might run [i]to[/i].

Instead, she brooded in an empty livestock barn, the animals kept within having mostly been slaughtered to feed hungry soldiers, and the remnant moved elsewhere and into other flocks.

"... Boo." A voice sounded, behind her, and she yelped as a familiar face loomed over her shoulder.

Rumia smiled.

"Are you troubled?" she asks, softly. "Ufufufun~ The newcomers do not agree with you."

How [i]could[/i] they? When they were such swine, and... the previous lord had held foibles, but in many respects, he had been a good man.

"What can [i]I[/i] do about it, though?"

A hand closed at her back, and with only a breath of fluttering shadows, as though they had not moved at all, the storm clouds were overhead as they sat in the crows-nest of the warship, emptied of all crew and left floating in place with an anchor dropped to the ground.

Empty, entirely.

"Look." Rumia urged, waving her hand at Tarbes and her surrounding lands.

... Her home was beautiful from above, even blighted by the invaders.

"You would have them gone. Is that not so?"

Rumia smiles widely, spreading her hands.

"All of this I shall give unto you, if only you will kneel before me alone."

The words, faintly and distantly, strike a chord. Perhaps something that she heard once, long and longer ago. Or simply that she eagerly wishes to believe.

And then they are within the barn once more.

"... What must I do?" She finally says, voice low and in a hushed whisper.

Rumia smiles.

And a knife drops to the ground from her hand, point lodging in the scattered straw and dirt. Simple, and of utility. A blade that could be found in most any kitchen across the land.

"Render proof. Offer shed blood, and [i]blaspheme[/i] as I direct, and I will make everything else just... fall. Into. Place."

She presses a finger against Siesta's lower lip.

"It will be." Rumia hums. "Our... little... secret~"


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

It didn't take long at all to get into McKirk's new home.

Scrub down at a water-pump, change into clothing left behind in a now-emptied home, the soldiers had been eagerly looking for excuses to make examples of dissidents and 'potential rebellious factions'.

Then she just had to be clearly visible from the big house for a while, passing by, but furtively. Trying a little too hard to remain unseen drew the attention she was looking for like a spotlight, and it was only a matter of minutes before a soldier got her by the upper arm and dragged her inside, ordering her to make herself presentable and attend to McKirk in a room upstairs.

It was terrifying how easy it was to get close to him. More so because it meant that she would certainly have to go through with it, and the knife was seeming hot against her skin.

McKirk was reclined on a bed of flower petals, stem of a lily clenched between his teeth, as he offered what claimed to be an alluring gaze, and she slid the bolt on the door home.

Her hands trembled as she held the knife. The flower dropped out of his mouth in confused shock as it swung up.

He was already taking in breath, either to cast or to scream for help, she wasn't sure, it didn't matter, as the blade came down and sank home into his throat.

Only gurgles and wheezes can escape.

Again. Again. Chest. Stomach. Over and over...

She was splattered with red, and it was dripping on the floor.

It was easy. It had been easy. Impossibly easy. Someone who could justifiably claim to be objectively [i]better[/i], and with just a bit of sharp metal on a handle, now...

Her gorge rose, as she understood what came next.

Blaspheme.

Do it.

Blaspheme.

Already too far in. Already to be hung for a copper, no reason not to go for a gold. There was no way she could get [i]out[/i] unseen, even with how well things had gone.

The knife hacked and sawed, and she reached down to pull out redness.

Do it.

[i]Do it[/i].

"... A curse upon God, the Founder, and Brimir's Holy Church." she choked out, through the lump in her throat.

And bit down.

Tough. Chewy, stringy. Dripping. She wasn't sure she could keep it down. She didn't have a choice.

The second bite was just as harrowing. The third went down just a touch easier. The next. The next.

Her stomach roiled and her hands were slick with red as she received calm, slow applause.

"This is what you must do." Rumia whispered in her ear.

... Oil. Lamp oil from the lamps. Splash it all over the corpse, the bedding, and strike a spark.

Then out through the waiting and yawning pit of darkness.

... [i]Out[/i] through the darkness. Out through...

Just a moment of being run through with knives, over before the agony registers, something driving through her navel, and then gone as she steps into the light. Clean and not a drop of red.

She's still expecting everything to somehow fall to pieces. She's never given orders to anyone, it's always been her lot to carry them out. She's never tried. But somehow, just calling out demands as she rushes past, things start to get [i]done[/i].

They've fixed their overlooked problem of having no guards on the airship. But a pair of men with single-shot muskets and sabers are not quite a match for a score of equally strong men with hammers and sickles and clubs.

Smoke has begun to seep through the big house's window by now, and some of the guards there are milling about. They can wait.

The [i]first[/i] volley, before anyone realizes something is wrong, is for the church. The majority of the mages are there, and if they have warning, they could be a problem. When their warning is suddenly being smashed apart by cannon shot and having heavy stone roofing dropped down to crush them like worms, it isn't so much of a problem, as none get their wits together in time.

They left all of the heavy sacks and barrels of powder, crates and boxes of shot, on the ship. Didn't feel the need, perhaps, to move them simply to be stored elsewhere, and perhaps only to be moved back for further actions.

It meant that the big house was toppled and crashed apart as easily as the church.

Cheers resounded, even as Siesta somehow knew that neither would be rebuilt, and the wreckage of the big house sent curls of smoke up into the sky, and the crew, such as it was, tried their best to snipe fleeing reconquista soldiers in the street with cannonballs.


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

Curl.

Tristania was not a city built to withstand sieges.

Stretch.

It was full of grand mansions and wide roads, the jewel in the crown of the elite and upper crust, and in general, it fed itself with weekly shipments from all the nearby and smaller farming villages.

Curl. Stretch.

Villages nearby, but [i]outside[/i] of the encircling troops and airships. And shipments that now would not be coming in, as those villages found themselves feeding those very same troops.

Curl. Stretch. Curl. Stretch.

Karin didn't need to compare the lessening portions of meals with every day that passed, overestimating how much was held in reserve at first, and then drastically cutting back as reality struck home, to know that there was only a finite amount of time before the food situation began to get truly dire. She had been involved in sieges before, unlike the vast majority of the nobles, and on both sides of matters to boot.

Curl. Stretch.

Watch as your fingers defy your control, sudden trembling shudder jostling them to the point where continuing to hold a wand would have been impossible.

Damn.

Wait for it to pass.

And then begin again, from the top.

"-And the doctor says 'Oh, same problem, he just has a better health plan.'"

... as the comically oversized fairy snickered behind her hand, Karin reflected it might help if she had a little privacy.

She and her daughter's [i]sword[/i], apparently, had hit it right off.

Which wouldn't have been such a problem if the jokes it happily told at any excuse were at least [i]tasteful[/i], rather than the appalling filth that spilled forth from...

From wherever its voice was coming from.

Really, she supposed she couldn't blame Louise for leaving it behind, getting a little time away from it.

Curl. Stretch. Curl. Stretch.

"-And so she says..." Dai finishes her own ribald jest, wings fluttering in crude amusement. "... 'Well doctor, I'm just glad it didn't bark!'"

Cringe. But snort.

Focus.

Enough with the hands. Time to focus on her scattered and disjointed memory.

She had been born at...


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49

Kirche stared at it for a long moment. Then prodded it with a fork.

No matter which way she turned her head or looked at it, the situation remained the same. No amount of gravy or sauce could conceal that this was a rat she was looking at, in the small bowl.

She prodded it again, as Tabitha slurped something, quietly, and Louise snorted.

"Are you going to [i]eat[/i] that, or just play around with it like a cat?" Louise grumbled aloud.

"... By all means, if you can stomach this sort of thing, it's all yours." Kirche agreed, sliding the bowl aside and focusing instead on the miniature loaf of something resembling bread it had come with.

It took a couple minutes, as she tried to ignore crunching noises, for her to admit that she wasn't so much chewing the bread as it was that her teeth were sliding off and grinding against its sturdy armor of an outer layer. Perhaps it got better inside. But knocking it against the stone walls didn't seem like it was going to be enough to crack this shell.

"Soak." Tabitha suggests, staring out at the airships, floating in the clouds.

... but then the bread would taste like [i]rat[/i], instead of like rocks, and Kirche wasn't really sure which was the better option, here.

In the end, she just tucked the bit of bread away and ignored her stomach.

"Seven." Tabitha notes.

"Not even [i]one[/i] of Albion's fleets, in their entirety." Kirche agreed. "Shows what they think of what they'll need to crush Tristain. I wonder where the rest of them are?"

"Not Gallia." Louise responds, and Tabitha doesn't have anything to say to that, instead simply drinking the last of her gravy broth. "I'd guess that at least some of them are running shipments from one place to another, and handling logistics. The rest... Germania perhaps."

"Hah." Kirche snorts. "I'd love to see them try to make much headway against the Germanian forces. It's true that individually, their soldiers and knights are better trained, but the Germanian armies outnumber them ten to one, and have superior weapons. Our mages are equal, and in regards to our [i]airships[/i]... it is reversed. We do not need so many airships as Albion, the floating sky-island. But every airship in the Germanian fleet is a work of mastery, a floating fortress. Have I ever told you of our ironclads, or of the jewel of Emperor Albrecht's crown, the aptly-named Invincible, with a cannon range of a full four times greater than other contries'? I'm afraid that the rest can generally only manage twice the range. The trick to getting the greater weight in the air is mingling the traditional airstones with earthstones, to reduce the weight of the metal while at the same time reinforcing it-"

"I don't care [i]what[/i] the repurcussions were." Louise interupts, turning her head aside. "No matter who brings the matter up. I refuse to apologize for saving that princely idiot's life."

Kirche took a quick mental step back from the issue, before changing tack.

"Hah... and who cares about [i]that[/i]?" she says. "No changing what's been done. I'm just saying... I would be glad to make a solid wager in gold, a hundred Marks, on a Germanian airship against a half dozen or more ships of Albion's fleets."

As though right on cue, there is a resounding boom from the tistance, and their heads turn as one to watch the approach from the north of a lone ship, launching a burning shot from its primary cannon, smashing through one side of the hull of an Albionese airship.

"I would wager a hundred crowns on the superiority of a pot of bouillabaisse to a platter of Tristainian herring rolls." Tabitha speaks up quickly, wasting no time in attempting to jump onto this opportunity with both feet.

She scowls, softly, when the mentioned foodstuffs fail to mysteriously fall from the sky.

"... This is hardly an unwelcome surprise-" Louise begins.

"That is the Meteor." Kirche interrupts. She frowns. "And so... a good thing, I suppose, for Tristain in general. But... for you, Louise... a very bad one indeed."

Far off on the horizon, a large portion of an airship exploded and it began to founder in the air and sink towards the earth, spilling its innards and contents as it went.

And with the wide grin of a hunting wolf, Sophitia Johanna Eilzabeth von Anhalt-Zerbst, the Burning Mountain, transformed the next shot in the barrel into a golem much like the first, lead erupting in flame as it was shot out from the barrel to seek out the gunpowder stores.


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 50

"You mustn't, your body is still-!"

Karin ignored the whining healer as she finished tying her bad hand into place on the saddle. A good sollid couple of pulls confirmed that it wasn't coming loose anytime soon, and she nodded.

"Bek legges." she managed to mangle into something approximating the words she was looking for.

"Right away~" The fairy agreed, fiddling little leather straps into place. Designed for first time riders, or the infirm, Karin wouldn't normally bother except that she still couldn't really move much of her lower body at her own direction.

She could still feel it, though. Which was apparently a promising sign for eventual recovery, and meant that she could snarl wordlessly when she realized that the fairy was taking her time and fumbling deliberately with the leather.

"I am appalled, familiar-" the healer ranted... Karin tuned it out. Had she ever bound the fairy, actually? Probably not. Not important. Frankly, she didn't really care at this point.

The healer yelled something about Karin possibly dying in battle, as though nobody had realized that was possible yet.

"... Do you think she might explode?" Dai asks, clapping her hands with simple and vaguely childish eagerness. "Into chunks. Or like a firework! A firework made out of blood and bits."

The healer is, thankfully, struck dumb at the possibility.

And it's about this time when, as Karin tests the responsiveness of the old and habitually tractable drake that nobody in the palace flew anymore due to its arthiritis, which had only just escaped half-finished discussions about how time was running out and the cavalry beasts ate a lot, with only so many rats to go around they should really start looking into alternate options for desperate meals... fire dropped from the sky onto her in a pillar.

It only ceased as a tan woman landed on her own drake, much younger and healthier looking, and grinned savagely as the fires died down around Karin's instinctual and barely thought of wind shield.

She strikes Karin as very faintly familiar, but she just can't put her finger on who...

"Afternoon, Valliere [i]bitch-sow[/i]." the woman says, cheerfully, pointing a thumb at her eyepatch. "You aren't technically on the dance card, but when I saw you here, I figured any opportunity to pay you back for stabbing this eye of mine out was a [i]good[/i] opportunity~"

... Nnnnnnope, still not ringing any specific bells. The woman just doesn't strike Karin as being anyone of actual importance to her.

She looks a bit like Louise's acquaintance, though. Maybe an older sister. But embarrasingly enough, just at the moment, Karin can't recall [i]her[/i] name either.

She sighed in loud annoyance.

"... But you're breaking the seige?" The healer manages, tone of mild disbelief that someone might not be totally in either the 'friend' or 'foe' category.

"Eeeeh..." Sophitia says, clearing her ear with a pinky as her dragon snorts. "... I'll put it this way. I don't give a shit about the siege [i]or[/i] Tristain. I'm here for two reasons."

She raises a finger.

"My daughter."

She raises a second, and smirks.

"... And yours. It's just convenient that they're in the same place, and it doesn't matter much if I have to break up a few floating dinghies that get in my way." Sophitia says, smugly. "I'm penning you in as number three. Do me a favor, and scream really loud as you die~"

A fireball the size of an average peasant's hut rips from nothing through the air on a direct path through the fairy and Karin. The fairy winks away, and Karin moves her wand.

And the flame splashes off of a sudden outcropping of icicles that stubbornly refuse to melt in the face of the burning heat.

It takes a moment for Karin to recognize that she hadn't actually cast anything yet, and it wasn't until that realization ran its course that a second fairy dropped onto the floor, back to the ice.

"A hero arrives just in the nick of time." she declared, smugly, arms crossed and eyes closed in sheer ineffable confidence. "Dai! I've come to save you!"

"I already got out of the way~" Dai calls, from a bit off, floating over an empty space past the ramparts. "And it wouldn't have been a big problem if I hadn't, you know?"

"There's no time to explain how I got here!" the second fairy continues. "I'm here to rescue you. Shut up and be the damsel in distress for a few minutes, okay?"

"ooooh, I get it. You've been reading comic books again~"

"... Hahaha, what gave you that impression? Tengu Top-"

Sophitia casually smashed her way through the icicles, nonplussed look on her face, interrupting the blue fairy.

"Hey, 'scuze me, trying to kill a bitch here." She interrupts, dryly.

"Hey, I'm [i]trying[/i] to talk to my friend!" the blue fairy shoots back, equally annoyed. "Who I'm here to rescue. Oh, speaking of, have you seen... wait, never mind, I have to punch the person who kidnapped you. Don't tell me, let me guess... You! Fiend!"

"Nope!" Dai says, tugging the gobsmacked healer out of the way of an ice chunk in the shape of a rotatinc circular saw-blade. "Pink lady on the dragon, Cirno."

"All right then!" Cirno begins, winding her arm back-

"She's sick."

-and grinding to a halt.

"... Aw, man. I can't punch a sick lady." Cirno replies, frustration obvious on her features. "That's against the hero moral code or something. And she'll set me on eternal fire until I die, again."

"I appreciate your moral dilemma, but [i]DIE[/i]." Sophitia snarls, launching what should have been enough burning stone to crush everyone on the ramparts like insects.

Cirno turned, and swung one fist upward, and on impact with the seeming comet there was an explosion of frost in every direction. Karin felt an unusual chill in all of her extremities, as for just a few heartbeats, her breath was frosting in the air.

Pebbles and little clumps of hail rained down from the aftermath of the blow.

"Alright! I've decided. I need to punch [i]someone[/i], angry eyepatch lady, and it looks like you're it!" Cirno cheered, cracking her knuckles.

"Oh? We'll see about [i]that[/i]!" Sophitia said in turn, allowing her attention to be drawn away as Cirno lunged into action.

Karin scratched at her chin.

... Damn, still not a bit of recollection, except for vague impressions of... a vampire?

No, probably not.

Well, if it was important, then she would surely remember who that woman was, sooner or later.


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 51

There were a number of flying mounts kept within the capital. For the most part, they were now out and about on the field, hungry and desperate riders in saddle above, fighting what could easily be the most important, or last, battle of their lives.

Nobody would dare try to claim a mage's familiar from them for a war-mount, of course, and so Tabitha and Kirche were well set.

This left her out of the running, to some degree.

Louise could easily have remained with the Royal Guard, of course, and defended Henrietta from any attacks which might land in the palace... but the guard were doing quite well in that on their own, and Wales still held a grudge for being denied his final blaze of story-book glory.

Idiot man. He couldn't just say 'thank you for saving my life'?

... Still.

There was just one option remaining, then, as she could hardly ride the wolf into the skies.

Manticores.

Curiously, when the cavalries had flown out, the Manticores kept stabled here had been, for the most part, left behind.

It left Louise plenty of options to choose from.

That one would do.

Step forward. Stand tall and proud. Look the manticore dead in the eye.

Wait for it to take the implicit challenge, and don't think of a week under the dedicated care of a healer, the first time you were instructed to try this, and Bernandette grazed you with his stinger when you showed weakness, flinched.

Stand your ground, unmoved, as a jaw full of teeth like knives opens only a hands-breadth from your face, and the manticore [i]screams[/i] wordlessly at you.

Scream [i]back[/i], all but shoving your head against its own as you force it to back down, to submit, with the sheer force of will and fury bubbling up from just below the surface, made manifest in your own shrill and wordless snarl.

Don't show any relief, as the manticore backs down, capitulating. Not a bit. Not a drop. Nothing but confidence and absolute self-assurance, because it's not over yet. Not until you're on its back and in the air. Not the slightest trace of worry, this is how it is, and how it was always going to be. There was never, from the beginning, any chance of anything different.

And so you fly.

Beasts are easy to understand and work with, once you have learned the knack. Louise can only wish that men were so simple, as she buckles the mask into place.

It will fool nobody at this stage, but it will rub in the humiliation of having been fooled so thoroughly before.

...

Kirche must have been surprised to realize, when the dust settled, that after the first couple of Albionese airships went down, the match between Reconquista and the Meteor was much more even than she had affirmed it would be.

The ironclad didn't even bother attempting to hit any of the remaining ships with its cannon. It might have the range, and the firepower, but it simply wasn't anywhere near accurate enough to hit the smaller and lighter wooden airships now that they were not still in the air, having taken to... Louise would admit, breathtaking and what should have been impossible aerial maneuvers, for any other country.

By contrast, the Reconquista's own volleys almost couldn't help but strike home against the Meteor, but the more sturdily constructed airship... it was not invulnerable to harm, but it would take more shots than Louise would estimate the remaining ships had, all together, to sink the ironclad.

Both parts of the fray were switching to the smaller, spreading grape shot, fired not to inflict damage on the other vessels, but to maim and butcher their crews and flying opponents. Even a full broadside of the shot would do no worse than become lodged in the hulls, or perhaps the occasional lucky puncture. But against flesh, if a shield of wind couldn't be erected at just the right moment?

The mages might save themselves from being shredded apart by the pellets, but for normal soldiers, it was no more than a charnel house, and the air around the capital [i]stank[/i] of blood, sending the manticore into eager salivations.

It tore apart a flying horse, swallowing portions even as Louise drew the sword and hacked at its rider.

"Getting better, girl. I'd say by this time that you're only the-"

"Shut up. Now isn't the time to care about things like that." Louise replies, as the corpses fall, still bleeding.

... Not all of the Reconquista ships are tied up in the main knot of fighting. One is moving this way.

Cannons are coming to bear, and Louise guides the manticore into a dive.

It doesn't change the ship's facing, and she realizes almost too late that she wasn't the target. It's the palace, behind, that they were aiming at.

She doesn't even think as she draws the wand and aims up, hoping for a [i]miraculous[/i] stroke of luck, because while windstones were often stored in generally the same area, there was no way of saying for [i]sure[/i] without knowing in advance...

"[i]Explode[/i], damn you!" Louise howls through the mask.

It feels...

Right, almost. As one more in a long line of botched and volatile spells lances forth, striking-

For a moment, nothing happens. Then rippling waves of concussive force blast outward from the ship, entire frame of the airship not so much breaking apart as [i]shattering[/i] violently from the force of it, and sending the manticore tumbling end over end before it managed to right itself.

She must have struck home against the windstones after all. [i]Lucky[/i].

An arm falls past as the Manticore weaves around descending debris, dropping for... hopefully there's nothing that will be [i]missed[/i] directly below.

But onward. The battle will not wait, and the siege has not yet broken.


	52. Chapter 52

xxxx

Chapter 52

xxxx

Bait. Drawing fire.

That was basically the entirety of her role in this battle, Karin reflected. Sit proud and defiant, clearly waiting for _something_, and drawing attention from airships of both sides away from targets doing more important things.

It did sting, of course, but as she placed another shield in the way of a spray of pellets and flame, and refused to let her spine bend... well, she knew how to swallow her pride.

It helped that that woman and the fairy were never far, locked in battle. Granting the illusion that she was waiting for the opportunity to strike without an opening being taken advantage of, rather than the simple truth, that she was beginning to feel as though she wouldn't be _able_ to do more than defend herself at the moment, no matter how she tried.

"Got you!" the fairy cheered, clapping her hands shut as great sheets of ice copied the motion, crushing the form of the tanned woman between them.

Who then burst, along with her dragon, into flames. Revealing the deception, even as the fairy paused for just a moment.

And a crackling arc of flame passed through her body.

"No." The woman responded, grinning widely. "I. G-o-t y-o-u~"

"Ff-!" the fairy began. But there was no time to say anything, as her body fell apart and shattered into glistening motes, a diamond dust.

"As for you-!" the woman began.

She was interrupted by the other fairy, clapping loudly and with a wide smile of her own, laughing merrily.

"... That was _great_~" Dai cheered, seeming honest in her congratulation. "Cirno thought she had you... and then _bam_. She won't make _that_ mistake again~"

"Ho. You're a cheerful one, given the situation~"

Dai shrugged.

"What can I say? Still... well, it's not really that important, but you _did_ kill my friend right in front of me, just now."

The fairy grinned a little.

"You'll understand that I can't just let that _drop_, right? I'm not as good a fighter, of course. But still~"

"Oho."

Sophitia didn't say a further word, but bathed the area in flame.

Dai had already sparkled away, and stood behind her in the air.

"... I think it's fine. Let me introduce myself, though. I am _the great fairy of decay_!"

As she clapped her hands, Sophitia had only just begun to turn the drake and bring up her wand to a position where she could aim correctly."

"Rot to nothing, little threads~ Cured hides, fray apart, stink and snap~"

There was a ripping sound from Sophitia's sleeve, and a soft, but audible pop from the saddle. Eyes widening a touch, she aborted the attack to first snatch at a horn.

"Metal, corrode, rust, flake away and fall apart~" the fairy continued, voice in a little sing-song as what seemed like the slightest movement shredded Sophitia's clothes further apart.

She ignored it and heaved, barely leveraging herself out of the saddle and onto the drake's back directly as a buckle creaked, warping, and finally snapped and crumbled apart as the saddle slid off of the drake, tumbling down to the earth.

"... hoo. You're actually going to be pretty annoying to deal with." Sophitia noted, chest becoming steadily more and more bared to the world.

"I'm happy you think so~"

In the distance, as she squinted, Sophitia could see a manticore approaching. In another direction, she could see the drake of her daughter's little friend, just as described, and with one familiar rider.

Nonchalantly, she shrugged, making a quick decision as she judged relative importance.

"... Well. I'd hate it to be said that I'd turned down a fight, but three on one might get... just a little annoying." She allowed, drake flapping away as one of the Reconquista ships, all having long since been boarded, began to founder and sink in a way that suggested the battle inside of it had come to a final end in favor of the defenders. "I'll just leave you all with the last three ships, then. When it comes down to it... one out of three objectives isn't that bad. _Stew_ in the fact that you weren't important enough for me to stick around and grind you into the dirt, Valliere, Kyahahaha~"

"..."

The laugh is annoying and stirs dim recollections of aggravation. Even so, for the life of her, Karin still can't place the woman's name.

Instead, she blocks another load of pellets.

xxx

A.N.

Mildly delayed on remembering to hunt down this last chapter. Not entirely sure where the story should progress from here, but figured I could at least post it. I've noticed the formatting issues... it's because I wrote the initial documents in forum bbcode, and then forgot that I'd done so when I posted a lot of these. It doesn't catch and automatically use those, or much like the line breaks I used, when posting here. This one I caught and fixed pre-posting mostly because I couldn't find where I left the original document at all!

Meanwhile, not really wanting to blog, but things are rough these days. It's almost getting to the point where I can't bring myself to keep putting out job applications anymore. Well, hope springs eternal, though. I've also got some ideas on original fiction, possibly novels, that if I can ever actually bring to fruition... well, I'll advertise those.

But for now, if you'd like, there's a brief note in my profile on how you can throw a few bucks my way if you're feeling like tossing some change into an internet hat.


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